


An Unwanted Son

by HalvarTork



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drug Use, Feminization, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Prostitution, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalvarTork/pseuds/HalvarTork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is the unwanted and unplanned for second son to the Malfoy family. Cast out at young age and later sold to Boraxn Belchrot, a goblin crime lord,  Draco is left to be molded into the role of a high priced courtesan. Belchrot will use the very nature of Draco's humanity to mold him into a tradable commodity he can control in his rise to power in the criminal underworld of Wizarding Britain.</p><p>After the war Harry becomes an unneeded hero and is mostly forgotten by the Wizarding community at large. Suffering from the loss of his first love, killed in the war, Harry falls into drugs and alcohol to escape. This downward spiral will lead him to sell a unique wizarding drug, of his own design, to a Muggle crime organization. As time passes he climbs the ranks of power within the Muggle underworld finding an even sweeter high in the obtaining of power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my first time publishing fan fiction so I appreciate any feedback. I have taken some liberties with canon and changed some details about characters living and dead to better fit the story line. If you prefer strict canon this is likely not a good fic for you. This will contain taboo themes including but not limited to child abuse, underage sex, forced prostitution, and slavery. 
> 
> I do not hold any rights to Harry Potter the character or story line. That right belongs to his creator J.K. Rowling.
> 
> I had a hard time deciding how much of my written story to publish, but felt I found a good chunk. Posting will be sporadic, but there should be no more then a week or so in between providing new content.

**Malfoys Fall! Wizengamot Unanimous in Ordering them Kissed.**  

In a not-unexpected decision the Wizengamot has ordered Lucius Malfoy Sr.

and his heir, the young Lucius Malfoy Jr., executed by Dementor’s kiss for war crimes that

include use of black magic, treason, and murder. Minister Shacklebolt has made it clear that all

individuals confirmed as Death Eaters during the war will find no mercy at the

hands of the Ministry. Execution orders have already been carried out for notable

figures including Bellatrix and Rodolphus LeStrange. The wizarding world offers no

quarter to those who have participated in the second rising of the Dark Lord.

 

Though popular opinion may be behind Shacklebolt’s rather radical push for execution

over imprisonment many still feel such punishment is extreme considering the age of

some of the soon-to-be executed Death Eaters.  Malfoy Jr., a boy of only 18,

was a minor when many of the crimes he is to be executed for were committed.

Can Shacklebolt really hold a child accountable for war crimes? Apparently he can.

How far will the public allow our radical new minister to go before we call it enough?

Execution is set to take place in front of the ministry, in grand spectacle, on

January 1st, 1999. The soon to be executed Malfoy family acknowledges no living heir.

 

           

           Hard green eyes flicked over the article, scanning the contents multiple times. A look of disgust twisted the dark features of Harry’s face at the sympathy The Prophet was throwing behind the to-be executed war criminals.  Shacklebolt’s support of execution was the only way to ensure that this war was well and truly done. In the case of the LeStrange’s they had escaped Azkaban, the most secure wizarding prison in existence, and Harry believed would not be held long if sent back. The Malfoy heir had brought Death Eater’s into Hogwarts, costing the lives of any number of wizarding children, staff, and other Ministry supporters. The elder Malfoy was responsible for helping to overthrow the ministry, murder of an unknown number of innocents, and torture.  Harry had no sympathy and could not see how anyone would. In irritation Harry crumpled the paper and threw it in the fire. The paper curled and burnt turning to ash in seconds.

 

~

 

           Boraxn Belchrot was a shrewd goblin, as were most of his race, and understood well the failings of humans.  He had long ago learned to prey on their uncontrollable lusts, making him a fortune.  Among other questionable and mostly illegal pursuits Boraxn ran the most exclusive brothel and pleasure house on Knockturn Alley.  He prided himself on his ability to cater to all needs, price ranges, and depravities. If a wizard could gain entrance to his establishment Boraxn would find a way to accommodate him at a cost. This was why when a harried former Death Eater came to sell him the cast out second son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy he paid him modestly and sent him away in the night. The young boy now slumbered fitfully on the brocade sofa in Boraxn’s office. Blonde hair tangled around his face hiding angelic features and a soft youthful mouth. Boraxn looked forward to watching the young cherub blossom into the lithe boy he knew to expect.

 

 

~~ 5 YEARS AFTER THE WAR ~~

 

Harry woke with a start to the shattering noise of someone pounding at the door of his London flat. He stared blearily at the ceiling and considered whether or not to confront the individual at the door. With a groan he pushed himself up and out of bed, groping blindly at the nightstand for his glasses. Several empty vials and his wand tumbled to the carpet, but his glasses were not there. Grumbling unhappily at his blindness, Harry grabbed at the wall using it guide him through the apartment. Wrinkled silk boxers rode low on Harry’s hips as he tore open the door, glaring out at the intruder.

 

Hermione took a quick step backward, startled by Harry’s sudden appearance. Her hands twisted nervously as she stared back at his glaring face, concern twisting her features. Harry stepped away from the door, holding it open for her to enter. Giving a sharp nod Hermione ducked under his arm and stepped into the entry. She gasped at the disaster that met her. The open plan hid nothing of the mess that was Harry’s home. Take-out containers spilled off the kitchen island, collecting in a haphazard pile to one side creating in a stinking mountain of trash. The sink was filled with dirty cutlery and glasses, some half filled with liquids that appeared to be growing a fuzzy film. The living room was worse with empty potion vials and liquor bottles cluttered on the floor and coffee table. A large hole graced one wall, likely from an errant fist smashed through it in a fit of temper. Dirty robes and muggle clothes scattered everywhere. The fact that there did not appear to be either a bug or rodent infestation was impressive.

 

Hermione turned on Harry in a fit of temper, “This is not acceptable Harry! I know you have been drifting away from everything lately but this,” She gestures madly around the room indicating the trash, obvious signs of substance abuse, and hole in the wall. Her dark eyes flickered with anger and concern. Harry shrugged one strong shoulder and turned toward the kitchen stumbling blindly around the mess. Hermione shook her head in disgust and, extending one hand, murmured “Accio Harry’s glasses.” The slim black frames shot from the general direction of the bedroom and landed in her outstretched hand. Picking her way through the filth, careful not to step on anything too questionable, Hermione followed Harry toward the kitchen, pressing the glasses into his hand.

 

“We are all really worried about you. You haven’t been to the Ministry in ages. Everyone is wondering when you will return to work. The Aurors need you whether you believe it or not and more than just as a consultant. Come back to the real world, Harry, this isn’t healthy. Ron asks about you all the time. He is afraid to approach you after the last row and is nervous you will never forgive him,” Hermione’s hands fluttered at her side and she bounced on her heels, unsure about how Harry would respond to her pleas. He had been unstable since the war and prone to fits of blind rage that were often set off at the drop of a hat. She assumed not much had changed in the year since she had last seen him.

 

Reaching in the fridge Harry pulled out a slim vial and tossed back the contents before turning to face Hermione. His vision swam a bit and a flush climbed his neck as the potion burned its way through his system. The vial slipped from his hands and fell to the ground to join many a companion. Harry reached out one hand to grasp the counter while he waited for his head to clear. “Hermione you shouldn’t have come here. I do not welcome this intrusion into my privacy. Your concern is misplaced. You should focus your time on people who need you and not nose around in things that concern you not. My affairs are my own and how I chose to conduct myself is not at liberty for your scrutiny.”  Harry’s expression was hard and uncaring a stark contrast to the boy who Hermione remembered from school.

 

Hermione exploded, “Harry, the war has been over for five years, and you need to move on. They are dead!  Sirius, Severus, Dumbledore, they are all dead and they are not coming back. Please just get over it and please come back to the world. Live Harry! They would not want you to do this to yourself.”

 

Rage flashed across Harry’s features as he clenched his fists tensing. Hard green eyes bored into Hermione, shining with a barely contained rage. “That is enough. I ask you please leave,” Harry’s voice was glacial as he turned and walked back to the bedroom, slamming the door and ending the conversation. Hermione sank to the floor crying silently. Her thin shoulder shook with despair as fat tears ran trails down her cheeks. Being confronted with the truth that the hopeful loving boy she remembered from school was well and truly dead was heart wrenching. With shaky legs Hermione climbed to her feet and began making for the door. As she slipped back out into the crisp London morning she held a heavy heart. The door closed with a click signifying the end of a friendship long gone cold.

 

Harry threw himself face down across his bed and rode the high that was working its way through his system. They called it Euphoria Blue and it brought a dreamlike haze and numbness to the embittered man. Limbs tensed with anger over his friends outburst unclenched and relaxed. Memories of the war that plagued Harry with a vicious persistence fled into the ethers of his mind. Slowly Harry’s heart rate came back under control and he headed for the shower grabbing up some clothes and his wand as he went. A quick scourgify rendered the clothes decent and he slipped under the warm spray all worries having floated away in a warm haze.

 

~

 

Draco sat nervously outside Madam Adele’s office, hands folded neatly in his lap, back ramrod straight, and ankles crossed to one side. The child Boraxn had purchased had grown to be a graceful creature in the years since he had been enrolled at Madam Adele’s Finishing School for Young Girls. Unlike many children who would find themselves called unexpectedly before their headmistress, he did not fidget. Mademoiselle Celeste, secretary to the headmistress, spoke up without turning her face from her work, “Draco the Madam is ready for you.” The boy gave a slight nod and rose, smoothing his navy skirt and checking that his stockings had not rolled down before approaching the door to the headmistresses’ office.  Draco entered curtsying low for the Madam and standing at attention.

 

“Ah Draco thank you for joining us,” the Madam spoke crispy, “Your guardian has sent for you. It is not common we allow a young individual to take holiday in the middle of the year, but considering your condition we have made an exception. We are lead to understand you will be out for a medical procedure?”

 

Draco looked taken aback unsure what the Madam could be referencing, but he knew better than to contradict Boraxn. If he had said a procedure was needed then it was needed and he would submit, too aware of the consequences of possible insolence. He put on a thoughtful expression to hide his surprise nodding slowly, “Oh yes, I forgot that Monsieur Belchrot mentioned that might be necessary. I have always had a weak disposition and my guardian is ever thoughtful of my health.”

 

“Then it is settled; you will go and return in a weeks’ time. I hope you understand this does not mean you can put aside your studies. When you return you will be drilled thoroughly to ensure you have not fallen behind your peers. I do not approve of your guardian enrolling a boy in my school, but he pays well for discretion so we will continue to accommodate as long as you do not bring disgrace to us.  Please see your things packed and ready at the front lobby at six this evening. The letter states a car will be sent for you.” Having said all she intended Madam Adele turned her attention back to her paperwork effectively dismissing her charge. Draco curtsied and backed away slipping back through the door he came in, closing it softly.

 

 

At exactly 6pm Draco stood in the lobby of the boarding school beside his packed trunk. He had left his uniforms hung and pressed in the wardrobe of his private room and instead wore a white pinafore over a grey dress of fine wool that fell to his knees. His blonde hair pulled back in a thick braid to his waist tied with a matching ribbon. Several girls in their navy uniforms stood gossiping on the stairs peeking down at Draco. Before long a dark faced wizard entered, dressed in a smart chauffeur's uniform, to collect Draco. “Hello Monsieur Rodolphus. I understand Monsieur Belchrot has requested I return home for a short while?” The chauffeur grunted hoisting up Draco’s trunk and heading for the black town car idling in the front drive of the school. Draco followed quietly slipping in the back seat and pulling a slim book on Latin verbs from the pocket of his pinafore to study on the drive.

 

~

 

The warehouse was mostly deserted when Harry let himself in through an old service entrance. His steps echoed loudly on the cement floor sounding almost cacophonous.  Birds fluttered in the rafters let in through broken plate windows set high in the walls. The cement was painted in feathers and refuse. Abandoned equipment, boxes, and crates cast long odd shadows in the half-light that poured in from outside. Harry was nervous the environment left many places for an enemy to lay in wait. His hand twitched confirming his wand was near at hand if needed. “Uhhhh...Mr. Gray?” Harry called out stepping into an open expanse of concrete that appeared to be an old loading dock.

 

In the center of this area was a stout man of middling years wearing a smart suit. He appeared to be a man accustomed to luxury gone soft around the middle. Two roughs stood to his side, matching bored expressions on their faces. “Mr. Potter,” Mr. Gray responded, “I understand you wish to approach my employer with a business opportunity? He was most intrigued by your proposition.”

 

“Euphoria Blue. I approached him about Euphoria Blue, a most intriguing substance. I understand you trade in such substances.”

 

Mr. Gray nodded thoughtfully, “We are interested. My employer has requested samples, which I am under the impression you are here to provide. If my employer determines he is interested then we will discuss further what we can offer you. If he is interested there will also be expectations for your proper conduct. We are lead to believe, from our rather thorough investigation into you, that you are using the product among other things.” Disgust was evident in the florid man’s tone.

 

Harry glowered, “I see. I have brought the samples as requested,” Harry pulled half a dozen slim vials from a pocket and took a step toward Mr. Gray. His guards crowded up beside the man holding up a hand for Harry to halt his approach. The taller of the two came forward and collected the drug slipping it into his own coat. “We will consider what you have provided and get back to you. I recommend you consider what you are trying to get into before that time. Advice is not something I should provide you, but I recommend you start now pulling you image together. If my employer decides you are or will become an issue for the company you will be dealt with.” Having no more to say Mr. Gray turned on his heels and walked away, back into the echoing warehouse with his guards close behind. When all was quiet and Harry could no longer hear the retreating sound of footsteps he apparated back to his London flat. Concerns brought up in the recent interaction crowding around the edges of his ebbing high threatened to overwhelm him.

 

 ~

 

Shortly after leaving the school Draco was sent on by portkey to Boraxn’s London estate with his luggage. He arrived with a crack and stumbled slightly, always hating the sensation of magic travel. Grimacing at his undignified entrance, Draco righted himself quickly dusting off his pinafore. A dour faced butler stood in the entry waiting upon Draco’s arrival. “Welcome home Draco. Mr. Belchrot awaits you in his study. I will see your trunk taken to your room and unpacked. It will be good to have you home for a short time. Tonight we will not sit for dinner due to your late arrival, but a tray will be sent up once you are done meeting with Mr. Belechrot, “ instructed Mr. White, butler to the Belchrot estate. “Thank you White. I will see to Boraxn now.  I appreciate you seeing to me upon my arrival,” Draco turned and made his way down the hall. The house, though large, was homey. The front hall had wood paneled walls and rich carpets underfoot. Wrought iron sconces set on the walls burned fat beeswax candles providing a soft soothing light. Draco felt comfortable in the space filled with a sense of belonging at being home.

 

The door to Boraxn’s study stood open and Draco let himself in. A fire burned merrily in the hearth bathing the room in warmth. A large silk pillow sat before the desk in the place where one might expect a chair. Draco cringed at the site of the pillow and slowly began stripping his pinafore and dress folding them and setting them on the desk in a neat pile. Shined patent Mary Jane’s and white knee socks followed in addition to his modest white panties. Draco knelt gracefully on the provided cushion, back straight, head bowed, and eyes downcast. Boraxn watched with approval, happy to see his training had not been forgotten in Draco’s time away. The boy was absolutely lovely with hair a white blond that fell in a rope-like braid to his hips. His skin was the pale color of new milk with a softly rounded hip and thin shoulders. His face showed the promise of sharp high cheekbones as he aged and lost a bit of the baby fat that his young body still clung to stubbornly. He also had a full mouth, all lush plumpness very different from his father and brother who came before him. Boraxn was pleased and hoped that the castration would help preserve much of the youthful charm and kiss of femininity the boy carried.

 

“You have grown in both grace and beauty since summer, this pleases me greatly. Madam Adele has spoken well of you which is surprising considering her rather surly nature. I am glad you have outgrown you impulsivity and impertinence. Your marks are exemplary. I wanted to inform you that we will be adding Spanish and Italian to your schedule when you return. Your mastery of French and Latin have been superb. I have also seen to arranging a short recital for tomorrow evening. You will be performing vocals and a piano piece I have pre-selected. I know you understand the importance of these performances and will take this seriously,” Boraxn fixed the trembling child with a hard look black eyes flashing like obsidian, “When we had you home for the summer you performed abysmally, embarrassing me and hurting your future prospects. I hope you have not fast forgotten the consequences of such behavior.” Draco flinched at the mention of the past summer fear blossoming across his features. His body began to tremble more violently as a tear slipped from one eye. Boraxn walked around his large desk to stand beside the boy, caressing his shoulders and hair tenderly, “Hush beautiful boy I am sure such measures will not be necessary this year. You have come so far since then. Do not act so, you shame yourself,” Boraxn scolded gently referencing Draco’s current breakdown. Draco gave a loud sniff and settled himself, tears drying upon his cheeks.

 

“Come now grab your pillow and bring it over near the sofa. We can sit while I explain the reason for having you brought home from school for a short vacation,” Boraxn gestured to a low brocade sofa. A blanket was tucked over the back and a book lay open on one of the cushions. It was a comfortable intimate space. Boraxn settled himself on the free cushion while Draco placed his pillow to the side and kneeled gracefully. As Boraxn began to speak he took Draco’s braid in hand and began slowly undoing the loose weave, “The day after tomorrow you will be seeing Dr. Chesca. She is a muggle doctor and you likely remember her from past visits. She looked after you last summer after your punishment. Dr. Chesca will be performing your castration.” Draco jerked away from Boraxn, turning on him with a shocked look as he began to tremble again. Boraxn fisted the blondes’ hair in one hand, tugging him backward, “You will kneel Draco and behave yourself. I tolerated your earlier episode, but this is unacceptable. I will work out a minor punishment which will be administered before you can retire for the evening.” The boy folded himself back into the previous kneeling position, body tense and unyielding, as Boraxn combed through his hair with idle fingers. “Remember I own your body Draco. Try to remember what happens when you forget this. Your mind may be your own, but you are mine. It has been decided that before you begin to feel the ravages of puberty we will see you castrated to maintain your perfect soprano and softer form. You will likely not reach the height nature had thought your due and will gain less muscle mass. With the assistance of some magic and potions we will also render you hairless below the neck. You will have a short time to heal before returning to school. You will remain there over the holidays this year and work with private tutors. Your time there will be short compared to others. You may speak now, but think carefully what you wish to say and the tone you take in saying it.” Boraxn pushed the heavy locks from his lap to fall around Draco like a blanket, hiding his small frame.

 

Draco chewed at his lip thoughtfully before speaking, “I do not want this procedure Master. I do not want to continue at a girl’s school. They know I am different and they talk. It is merciless and I am would like to just be me. I have always been a thing to be molded, but I am not a person Master. I want to be a person.” Draco had managed to keep his tone soft and respectful as he made his plea. He no longer trembled or cried, but held himself still in an elegant and erotic posture learned from long practice.  Boraxn shook his head rubbing the bridge of his sharp nose in irritation.

 

“You are not a person Draco and never have been. I cannot make you something you are not. Just as I can never be a wizard you cannot become a person. You are property pure and simple, a commodity to be molded and trained. A person cannot be bought and sold and you were purchased as a child. You have been registered and slave branded since you were barely out of nappies. It frustrates me to no end how often I have had to remind you of this these last two years. You would be so much happier if you accepted your place. Do I not provide you every opportunity? Have you wanted for anything in your short life?”

 

“Master you have been most kind to me and I apologize for being ungrateful. Seeing the girls at school has allowed me to forget my place these last few years. I will do my best to improve, I am sorry I disappoint you. I struggle to understand my purpose and should put more of my faith in your ability to care for me,” Draco’s words rang with hopelessness and showed the understanding of one well beyond his eight short years of life. Boraxn nodded happily at the boy’s response. “Draco you are dismissed I would like you to head up to your room and contemplate why outbursts are inappropriate. I’ll be sending Rodolphus up shortly to administer a caning for your earlier outburst as punishment. Afterwards White will have your tray sent up, you should eat and retire for the evening.” Boraxn waved him off and turned back to the book he has set aside earlier.

 

Draco rose in a single smooth motion and collected his pile of clothing before slipping into the hall. The plush carpets were smooth beneath his bare feet and he curled his toes into the thick pile enjoying the way it tickled. Draco made his way further down the hall towards the kitchens and servants’ stair. Bastion, the head cook, smiled kindly at him as he passed through and gave a small wave. Draco did not wave back but hurried on up the steep back stair, unused to the casual nudity required of him when home. His room was a well-appointed if cramped affair with a narrow bed, wardrobe, and desk. The furniture was all sturdy antique pieces, oversized and space consuming. The upper floors were hardwood, but a faded rug offered some respite from the cold. Draco carefully tucked his clothes in the wardrobe and pulled out a silk pillow much like the one in Boraxn’s study.  He settled himself in the center of the room, knees on the pillow, body stretched out in a deep bow so his back was exposed and buttocks slightly raised, waiting for Rodolphus.

 

 

It seemed near on an hour when Draco finally heard the heavy footfall in the hallway. The boy fought his desire to shudder, shoulders going tense. Rodolphus had a heavier hand than Boraxn and enjoyed the pain he was allowed to inflict on the child. He entered the small room with a thin bamboo cane in one hand made to be flexible and stinging. The man’s dark features twisted into a smile as he examined the prize before him; so much pale smooth flesh laid out and ready. “I am told you are just as volatile as last summer young Draco. I look forward to your future misbehavior,” Rudolphus spoke with a sneer in his tone, caressing the boys’ buttocks and back with the cane. “You got off light this time, which makes me wonder if Boraxn is getting lax. Five strokes and you will count them out loud. If you cry out or miss a number I start over. We can go as long as it takes.” As the last word rolled off his lips the can came down hard and sharp across the boys back and the curve of his hip. Draco bit his lip hard, tasting blood.

 

“One, Sir,” Draco gasped out through the pain causing his vision to go black. A large red angry welt blossomed, marring milk white skin. The next three strokes came down in quick hard succession allowing Draco no time to adjust or catch his breath and with each the only sound that crossed Draco’s lips was the number required. The last was a vicious stroke designed to make the boy scream and came down hard and diagonal crossing all the welts laid out before it. Draco’s whole body went stiff and he bit through his lip, blood dripping on the fraying rug beneath him as he squeaked out a breathy, “Five, Sir.” Gingerly Draco began to slowly rise into a resting kneeling position, wincing and shuddering as he went. Rudolphus growled angrily at the boys resolve and stormed from the room slamming the door behind him.

 

Draco refused to move from the floor, in too much pain to contemplate standing. The last welt had cut the skin and blood beaded slowly. Pale locks of hair stuck to the wound. His lip was bruised and sore where he bit through it and looked in possible need of stitches. “Draco I brought your tray up,” White pushed his way into the room and swore in a very undignified manner at the sight of the boy. “Master Belchrot you should get in here,” White yelled into the hall before moving out of the doorway and settling the tray on the desk. Boraxn shuffled in wearing a dressing gown and slippers, looking livid at the invasion into his nightly routine. “Yes, White what could be so….” his voice cut off at the sight of the boy. His back was bad, but the sight of his bruised mouth was what truly set off the goblin. Draco could not perform in this condition and Rodolphus had gone too far.

 

Boarxn’s voice was icy when he finally responded, “White, get Draco cleaned up and put salve on his back and lip. You will need to stitch the lip or have Gretel do it, then get him in bed. A sleeping draught would not be amiss. I will deal with Rodolphus and then be to bed.”  Boraxn swept from the room and left White to care for his young charge. It was late by the time Draco drifted into a drugged sleep tucked up in his own bed.

 

~

 

Harry had spent the evening and most of the next day going over every detail of his interaction with Mr. Gray in his mind. The man had been dowdy and of average intelligence, not one you would take for a big mover and shaker. He seemed more a low level paper pusher then anyone with clout. Harry was almost offended that he had not warranted better. Then he remembered in the muggle world he was just some guy trying to peddle a new age drug in a market already flooded with product. The call for Euphoria sang to him, and it had been over twenty four hours since he downed a vial. His skin felt a size or two too tight and itched like crazy. He had spent several hours already upending his stomach and was pretty sure a fever was on its way. His fingers twitched out a rhythm on one knee as he tried to focus back in. He should be brewing more Blue, but his hands were shaking too much from the withdrawal. He wasn’t sure he would stay off the drug but for now he would get clean. He had plans for the future and Mr. Gray had made a fair point in him getting sober. Harry turned over in bed pulling the comforter up over his head and swearing he would peel himself out of bed tomorrow if he felt any better.

 

~

 

Draco woke slowly the next morning groggy from the sleeping draught White had forced on him. His back ached and his lip felt swollen and tight. He reached up to touch the stitches moaning unhappily. Boraxn hated anything that marred his face and Draco was terrified he would be punished for biting himself. Draco knew about magical healing, but the whole idea made him nervous. Boraxn had always had him cared for by muggle healers, especially after punishments. Boraxn felt that Draco would take a lesson more to heart if it was not easily erased. Draco was careful to rise and dress, not wanting to cause undue discomfort. He suspected a non muggle potion must have been applied to his wounds back as it only ached mildly. He dressed quickly in a heavy red wool dress that fell around his knees and thick white tights. Over this he pulled on a white ruffled pinafore and tailored black boots. White had braided his long hair into a tight weave the night before so he headed down to breakfast after lacing his boots.

 

Bastion had laid out breakfast buffet as was the custom for the house. There were platters of eggs, kippers, sausages, and a large array of baked goods. To Draco it was the sight of heaven. The fare at school had been bland and underwhelming. Boraxn had not yet come down to take his place at the head of the table. Draco thoughtfully picked over the selections with his eyes before filling a plate with a small scoop of eggs, a scone, and some chopped fruit. He had never been a big eater, and though he loved rich foods, he worried about growing fat and undesirable. He picked at the food on his plate mostly nibbling the scone and leaving the rest to go cold as he waited for Boraxn to join him.  It was nearly a half hour before the goblin came into the breakfast room carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked under one arm. He heaped a plate full of eggs and kippers for himself before settling down at the head of the table and fixing Draco with his black stare.

 

“Sir, I was hoping to review the pieces you selected for the recital before tonight,” Draco spoke softly. Family meals had always allowed a certain level of informality, but Draco was careful not to push his luck after last night. “I would like to be at my best for our guests. I want to prove to you I have grown since last summer.” Draco fell silent, eager to earn approval from his guardian.  Boraxn continued to eat his breakfast while glancing over the front page of the Daily Prophet and carefully considering how to respond to the boy/

 

“We have had a change of plans. Rudolphus was heavy handed with last night’s punishment and in light of that we are postponing the recital. I am hoping to rework a number of things so we can have you home for a few days at Christmas for another recital. I thought today as a reward for handling yourself so well during your punishment and the exemplary marks you have received you would enjoy going to Diagon Alley for the afternoon and doing some shopping. You have your allowance?”

 

Draco looked up with eagerness, dropping the fork he held and resisting the urge to cry out in excitement, “I do have the bulk of my allowance Master. I have little need of it at school. I would truly enjoy a opportunity to shop. I have not been to Flourish and Blotts in sometime and would enjoy picking up some new latin texts.”

 

“Then I will have Gretel and Mikhail accompany you. Rodolphus will be away from the estate for sometime so Mikhail will take over as your companion and security. You will begin seeing a new magic tutor once you return to school on the weekends and I advise picking up some texts on basic magic theory while you are out. I will provide Gretel a small allowance for this. You will also be expected to dress for the trip as normal. You understand that your family was not popular during the war years and avoiding scrutiny is for your own safety.”

 

Draco picked the fork back up poking at his eggs, eyes downcast, as he responded in a nervous whisper, “Sir, I really would like if we did not do magic theory again. It didn’t go well last time and I have little skill at it. You never liked wizards; why must I become something you despise?”

 

Boraxn sighed, “Draco, we have had this conversation many times and you know why you must learn control over your inherent magic. I may dislike wizards, but you will never have enough skill to be considered such. Magic, however, is a dangerous weapon and if you do not have control over it then it can lash out, without your consent, and cause harm. Do you want to harm someone? Would you choose to set yourself up for future punishments?”

 

Draco shook his head, “I do not wish that Master. I will apply myself to the magical lessons and learn well what you wish for me to know. I apologize for letting my fear guide me to impertinence. May I be excused to dress for the excursion?” Boraxn waved him off without a word and turned back to his paper. When Draco turned into the main hall Gretel was already there, holding out his traveling cloak and veil over one arm. “Oh, Draco, you have grown comley in your months away. Let’s get you wrapped up and we can be off. Master Belchrot has approved us to take the Floo Network!” The buxom upstairs maid spoke with a rolling accent and had a plump sweet face. Wild red hair fell around her shoulders in a mess of unkempt curls, a cap pinned haphazardly over her head. She settled the heavy wool cloak over Draco’s shoulder pulling the hood up over his head to shadow his face. A dark veil was pinned across his face obscuring all but the bluest of eyes. Stepping back she took in the sight of the cloaked and veiled boy and nodded happily, “Not a soul would know who was under all that. You look like a right mysterious lass going about so, but thats for the best. Come now Mikhail is waiting for us in the front parlour ready to leave by Floo!” She clapped her hands happily.  It was unusual for the upstairs maid to get a weekday off and she had always enjoyed Draco’s company.

 

~

 

Harry rose the next morning feeling rather ill used. His head felt as if a pack of industrious dwarves had taken up mining his skull overnight and his vision swam when he cracked his eyes open. His skin felt hot and feverish to the touch and he stuck to his sheets, indicating he had suffered night sweats. His stomach turned violently and he resisted the urge to heave. Stumbling into the bathroom, Harry downed a hangover potion and a fever reducing potion in hopes of lessening some of his withdrawal symptoms. A quick shower and breakfast of dry toast left him feeling somewhat more human. Without the haze of Euphoria Blue, Harry was better able to take stock of just how bad his flat had become and he determined to head into Diagon Alley to owl for magical house cleaners to come around.  Taking stock of cupboards and his potions lab left him noticing a number of other supplies he would need as well.

 

Harry picked through the clothing scattered across the living room before settling on a pair of denim jeans and a band t-shirt from some muggle concert he only vaguely remembered enjoying. A little wand work rendered the items wearable and he slid into the tight jeans that hugged his slim hips and muscular legs like a second skin. The t-shirt was loose and comfortable. A pair of knee high dragon-skin boots and leather bomber jacket finished the ensemble and he looked every inch a  muggle. Harry tucked his wand up one sleeve into a specially designed pocket that allowed it to be easily accessible before apparating. He arrived with a crack in a side street off the main stretch of shops  reorienting himself carefully  before disappearing into the crowd of witches and wizards passing by.    

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual interactions with an underage child. Please carefully consider before reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Draco is 8 years old. It is set in November months before his July birthday.

Draco stumbled from the fireplace, coughing behind his veil as Gretel reached out a freckled hand to steady the young boy. Several of the Gringotts goblins looked up, glowering at the odd trio as they milled before the public floo waiting for Draco to get his bearings. “So where do you want to go first dear? There is so much to see. I am sure you are positively bubbling with excitement. Oh, and I have coins from Master Belchrot and instructions to get you introductory magic theory books so don't let me go running off and forgetting, mind you. I also have a wee bit of shopping to do myself and will have to leave you to old somber sides over there,” she said, indicating Mikhail. Mikhail glowered at the flighty red head.

“I think we should go to Flourish and Blotts first. That way we can get our assigned tasks out of the way and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I wanted to pick up some Latin texts while we are there as well, so it seems a good place to start.” Mikhail gave a grim nod before herding Gretel out of the bank behind Draco. The exuberant woman seemed to do all things in fits and starts. It was a short walk to the bookstore made challenging due the bustle of bodies all crowding into the narrow street, likely preparing for the coming holiday season just a month or more away. Snow had fallen at some point  in the last few days and crunched underfoot. Draco shivered under his cloak and was relieved at the blast of warmth that greeted him upon entering the bookstore.  “Let’s get those magic texts then you can wander off and find your other things,” Gretel said, forcefully slipping her arm through Draco’s and dragging him in the direction of a sign cheerfully proclaiming the location of books on magical theory.

Several slim volumes were selected from a shelf marked for beginning magic users and handed off to Gretel to pay for. “I am going to head off and collect the things I needed to get for the house and do some personal shopping. You stay close to Mikhail and after we can get ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s. I will head there in about an hour so you make sure to meet me.” The red headed bubbled over with excitement as she headed to the register. Draco watched Gretel bounce away in amusement before losing himself among the stacks. It wasn’t long before he found himself lost among the dusty books far in the back of the shop. Draco smiled happily and began digging through the shelves of untranslated histories. There were books in Greek, Latin, and a dozen magical languages Draco knew not a word. It was Christmas come early and Draco picked out a number of dusty volumes in Latin he could use to practice his translation skills. Mikhail waited for him near the entrance as Draco came back into the main store and made his way to the register.

A gray haired witch in a faded floral print robe rang him up clucking happily at the selections, “These are very serious books for one who looks so young. Are you shopping for a friend or parent?” Draco blinked owlishly at the clerk, “No Ma’am I enjoy histories. I am fluent in Latin and enjoy doing translations to keep my skills sharp.” The woman nodded thoughtfully as she wrapped the books Draco had selected in thick brown paper. On top of the short pile she slipped a copy of a new monster mystery novel that had been popular among young wizards. The cover had an animated werewolf changing shape as the moon moved from behind some clouds. “I’m slipping this in as a gift. Try to take a break and enjoy something a little less serious on occasion.” Draco smiled broadly behind his veil and nodded enthusiastically at the woman’s gesture. He would never have allowed himself to purchase something so frivolous, but the moving image was exciting.  Draco felt a small stab of guilt as he collected the package and turned to leave. Mikhail moved in to flank Draco taking the packaged books and tucking them in the satchel he carried.

Draco stepped back into the street smiling gleefully at the bustle of the passing witches and wizards. Snow had started falling softly while he was in the bookstore and Draco  turned his face up to watch it, catching several wayward flakes in his long eyelashes. Draco giggled in delight and spun in a quick circle, throwing his arms wide. A group of older witches smiled at the child's joy. “Mikhail why do you do this?” Draco stopped to stare at the bulky bodyguard with curiosity.  Mikhail blinked several times at Draco’s question before shrugging one muscled shoulder waiting patiently for the boy to decide where he wanted to go next. Draco shook his head bending down to scoop up a handful of snow from the sidewalk and flung it a Mikhail catching him in the face and shoulder. The dour man huffed irritably and shook the snow from his cloak and hair. Draco realizing he would not get a reaction from his new companion made off in the direction of Rosa Lee Teabag in hopes of getting some good breakfast tea to take back to school with him.

~

Harry shouldered his way through the crowds, cursing himself for not thinking ahead and planning for such crowds. He hated the press of bodies making him very aware of how vulnerable he was. Few people recognized the one time savior with his hair grown long and shaggy and dressed in muggle garb, which was a relief to the reclusive man. The door to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary was a few feet ahead and Harry pushed rudely through the crowd to get to the door. Once inside, the smell of potion ingredients and dried herbs soothed his fraying temper. An elderly wizard, hunched and balding, came around the counter to greet Harry, “Good day, Sir, how can we help you today? Just general perusal or have you come for something special?” Harry patted down his pockets and extracted a crumpled sheet of notebook paper he had scribbled a list on before leaving his flat. He made a poor attempt to smooth it out across one pant leg before handing it over the the elderly apothecary. The apothecary took the page between two fingers looking it over with disdain before bustling into the back room of the shop to collect the requested ingredients. He returned some time later with  an arm full of bundles, jars, and pouches of various substances, waving Harry over to examine each item for quality. “Just wrap it all up, I am sure it will be fine,” Harry instructed distractedly.  The man glowered and bagged the items while Harry dumped a handful of galleons on the countertop. Harry snatched up his purchase and slipped back into the street without further word to the flustered shopkeeper.

Harry dodged bodies as he made his way toward the public owlery. After Hedwig had been killed Harry had not felt the inclination to keep his own owl; he instead relied on the public owlery for sending missives. A few coins and a note changed hands quickly at the owlery; soon a magical housekeeper would be sent to his London flat to restore order.  Having accomplished this Harry was feeling prepared enough for his final errand, a stop in at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, where he would obtain some of the more difficult to procure and questionably legal ingredients for Euphoria Blue. The Weasley twins had begun trading in black market potion ingredients shortly after the war in an effort to bring in additional income to support the family.  

Harry took a steadying breath before entering the Weasley's shop. Despite Harry’s fallout with Ron after Ginny’s death, he had remained cordial with the twins. They were vital in his ability to brew Euphoria Blue and had even helped in some of the early research phases of the drugs’ development. The twins had been very understanding of Harry’s desire to erase the war years and Ginny’s loss from his mind, unlike Hermione.  The small sign over the door was turned to “closed” declaring the twins out for lunch; this served Harry well and he let himself in knowing the door would never be locked to him, per an agreement made with Fred and George years before.  The bright displays were overflowing with product, helpful little signs suggesting nefarious uses and gifting ideas. Harry called out for Fred and George, hoping they were eating in and he would not have to wait long.

~

****  
  


Draco was feeling daring and energetic by the time he had finished most of his shopping and ice cream with Gretel. Shortly after ice cream Gretel had gotten distracted catching up with an old friend and Draco had left them with plans to meet up at the Floo later in the afternoon. Mikhail had continued to be an ever present shadow throughout the day rarely giving Draco more than a few feet of space. His looming presence and dour attitude had Draco  entertaining thoughts of slipping his guard for just a short while and exploring on his own. Dressed and veiled Draco could not see any harm coming to him due to his unfortunate parentage. Draco threw a mischievous look over one shoulder before darting low and squeezing through an oncoming press of bodies slipping out of Mikhail’s sight. He manipulated his small stature to stay hidden as he worked his way down the street and back toward the bright display of a joke shop he had noticed earlier in the day. A look of absolute irritation crossed Mikhail’s features when he noted Draco had managed to vanish in the crowd. He began to carefully study the street waiting for signs of the squirrely child.

~

George stuck his head out from the back room. He stared nervously at Harry,  face going white and tension crackling in the air. “Harry we were not expecting you today. You didn’t send a note around and we were, uh,” George began to stutter, wringing his hands as he stepped into the shop. Harry glowered, unsure how to respond to his friends unusual behavior, “I came for the usual reasons. I was not aware I needed to call ahead. We have never worked that way before.” George bobbed his head distractedly as he kept an eye on the door to the back room only half listening to Harry, “Yes, yes, I know. It's just, uhm, well, we had lunch guests.” As George fell silent Ron stepped out behind George, finally having managed to remove the sticking charm George had hastily cast.

“What was with the stickin…” Ron cut himself off mid sentence, taking in Harry’s presence and paling, “Harry?” Harry’s face went red with anger at the sight of Ron, his hands fisting at his side. His left eye began to twitch behind his glasses. Fred hurried in from the back room, holding a hastily tied package wrapped in heavy brown paper. He pressed the parcel into George’s hands before trying to guide an uncooperative Ron into the back room. George passed the packet from hand to hand, impressed at Fred’s quick thinking, “Fred got your order ready. No charge on this one. We are really sorry this happened, but you should go,” George stepped forward holding the packet of ingredients out to Harry.

Ron refused to be moved, “Harry can you please just talk to me? It has been almost four years. I was out of my mind with grief and I spoke out of turn. I know you couldn’t have saved Ginny. I know I should never have blamed you, but we are best mates! Can you really still hate me?” Ron pulled his arm out of Fred’s grip and came around the counter, trying to get a better look at the friend he had not seen in over four years. Harry had grown tall in the years apart, speaking to a late growth spurt. His shoulders were broader and more muscular than Ron remembered. His face was harder, all sharp planes and angry eyes. He had traded out the round glasses of his youth for a pair of thick black plastic frames that better complimented the harshness of his face. Ron winced, feeling responsible for the death of the carefree boy he remembered from before the war. George made a grab for his younger brother, trying to keep him from moving closer to Harry, “Ron, you should go with Fred and clean up from lunch please.”

Harry bit out a strained reply, “Ron you do not deserve my forgiveness. I recommended you not approach me again. It is only out of a deep respect for your brothers I have not leveled you right here. However I cannot promise in different surroundings I would be so forgiving.” Harry shoved the package George had handed him in the sack from Slug & Jiggers before turning on his heel and pushing through the door. As he stepped out into the street a small body came bolting from a group of milling witches and slammed bodily into him before bouncing backwards and landing in a heap. Harry growled and turned on the child.

~

Draco was smiling brightly as he made his way toward Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop that had tempted him earlier in the day. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Mikhail caught up and was enjoying his mad dash flight. That was, until he smashed into an unyielding body. Falling backwards Draco landed in the snow, blonde hair spilling around him, worked loose during his run. His hood had fallen backward, veil hanging pinned to one side. Large blue eyes stared up in horror at the dark haired man as Draco attempted to stuff his hair back into his hood. Mikhail spotted the confrontation from several blocks away and began pushing his way toward his wayward charge.

Harry’s eyes widened, taking in the sharp bones, white blonde hair, and eyes of the clearest blue. “Malfoy!” His wand was shaken from his sleeve in the blink of an eye and trained on the quivering child. The confrontation was drawing attention and several people stood watching nervously. Draco scrambled to his feet holding his hands out showing he posed no threat, “Uhm….please I don’t know what you want, but I am Draco. I am just Draco.” The boys voice cracked coming out high pitched and whining.  A tremor ran down Harry’s back, memories flooding forward to overwhelm him, no longer restrained by Euphoria Blue. “I do not know how you did it, Malfoy, but you will not walk away again. I saw you die. I watched the kiss, but here you stand!” It was clear Harry was no longer seeing the boy before him, but his brother Lucius years dead. Mikhail burst through the milling bodies, wand out as he dragged Draco behind him. Harry snarled loudly, advancing on Mikhail. “Confringo,” Mikhail’s blasting curse took Harry in the chest, knocking him backwards and leaving him disoriented. “Expelliarmus,” Mikhail cast for good measure, sending Harry’s wand flying into the crowd as he dragged Draco back toward Gringott’s and the public Floo.

~

Harry lay in the snow for several moment, trying to get his bearings.  The commotion in the street had brought George out of the shop and he scrambled to collect Harry’s belongings. The crowd had begun to disperse, moving around the fallen man. “Come on Harry, let’s get you home,” George held out a hand, helping Harry to his feet. “Harry I’ve not seen you like this in a long time. You are off the Blue, aren't you? Why did you wait so long to come around so you could start a new brew?” Concern was painted across George’s face. “I’m off the Blue for good George. I am coming up for air. I just need to think.” Harry ran his hands through his hair tugging at the ends. Shoving his hands in his pocket Harry looked up sheepishly at George.

****  
  
  


“I don’t know what to say to you Harry. You are unstable. We don’t know how often you can come around if you are staying off the Blue. You have to understand what a liability you are. We wouldn’t mind sending your supplies around if you still want to brew, but until you get yourself under control we can’t have you near the shop. You were a step away from killing Ron. He isn’t our favorite the last few years either, but we can’t have you endangering our family or customers. I’m going to apparate you home now. Send an owl around if you need us or you can drop a letter off in our muggle post box.” Harry nodded and held out his arm, which George took, apparating with a pop. The pair stumbled before righting themselves in the front room of Harry’s flat. The house cleaner had not come through yet and the space was still a disaster. George shook his head, “See this Harry, you are a mess. Figure things out and we will be happy to have you come back around.” George set Harry’s wand and parcels on the floor before disapparating.

~

Draco had begun to tremble uncontrollably as Mikhail hauled him bodily away from the angry raven haired man. He felt like those emerald eyes had seared him to the very soul. “Mikhail I am so sorry. Please take me home. Please,” Draco whimpered, curling into his guard to seek reassurance. Mikhail scowled and scooped Draco up, carrying his slight frame in both arms as the boy trembled. “You are a foolish child running off that way. Look what trouble you find for yourself. We will keep this between us. You have been punished enough for your foolishness. Now quiet down, pet, and we will go home,” Mikhail made an awkward effort to comfort the boy, moving between patting his back and carding calloused fingers through Draco’s mussed hair. Mikhail set the boy back on his feet on the steps to Gringott’s bank. Mikhail hastily tucked the last of Draco’s hair in his hood and refastened the veil before gesturing the boy ahead.  Draco nodded shakily and led the way to the Floo where Gretel stood waiting anxiously. “Ah, there you two are. Hope you didn’t run into trouble. Thought I saw a scuffle in the street a ways down when I was headed here. Didn’t investigate mind you. Some people can be so volatile. Oh, Draco you look positively exhausted and you’re trembling. You're not used to so much interaction, are you  pet? Come, let’s get you home and to bed for a wee rest before dinner,” Gretel babbled as she stepped into the fireplace. Mikhail upended the Floo powder and in a swirl of flame the three were whisked back to Boraxn’s London estate.

Draco collapsed in relief as soon as he stepped from the Floo. Gretel gasped and made to catch the child. She was not quick enough, and Draco sank to the floor sobbing silently. “He had a long and overwhelming day Gretel. I will take him to bed. Please inform Mr. Belchrot that Draco has taken ill.” Mikhail gathered the frail child in his strong arms and carried him through the house and up the service stairs to the second level. Once in Draco’s room he stripped of the boys cloak, dress, and stockings, settling him under the covers in only his white cotton panties. Draco sighed softly and snuggled into the soft bedding, quickly drifting to sleep. The stress and panic melted from the boys’ features as he relaxed into unconsciousness, and Mikhail let a small smile cross his face at the sight. Boraxn bustled into the room moments later, “What happened today Mikhail? I was informed that Draco collapsed in the front parlor.” Mikhail nodded somberly, “The outing was over stimulating. We stayed out too long. He needs rest.” The mans’ words were short and clipped. Boraxn nodded and waved the man off, “Then he shall rest. Tomorrow will be a hectic day.” The pair left the room pulling the door closed with a click, each returning to their individual responsibilities.

~

Harry had fallen into bed shortly after returning from Diagon Alley. The call of Euphoria and the onslaught of memories had left him shaken. To escape he had downed a dose of Dreamless Sleep and settled in for the night. That was, until the shrill ringing of a phone brought Harry slowly around. It took several moments before Harry could place the source of the noise, but when he did he scrambled from bed, throwing open the bedside table drawer and fumbling inside for the burner phone he had picked up a few weeks back. Only one person had the number to this particular phone, and that one person was Mr. Gray, Harry’s contact in the muggle underground. Harry brought the phone to his face. “Ello?” He mumbled blearily. still trying to shake the fogginess of sleep from his mind.

“Good evening Mr. Potter. We have had some time to look over the samples you provided and would like to see more of this product. We are not ready to commit to a business contract at this time, but my employer is most curious about this substance. We will send a runner by in the next few days and I advise that you be available at our leisure to provide this.” Harry recognized the voice on the other end of the phone as the rounded man from a couple nights back. Harry rubbed a hand roughly across his face, “I can do that. I’ll need a few days to get a batch ready, but it can be done.”  “That is what we were hoping you would say,” Mr. Gray responded. ending the call. Harry sat on the edge of the bed for several moments absorbing what had just come to pass.  

The news was good, better than he had expected, and Harry felt moved to action. He swung himself out of bed, slipping his glasses on, and made his way through the dark apartment to the spare room he had converted into a potions lab. The house cleaner had come through while he slept and the path was clear, nothing tripping him up as he went. When he opened the door to the lab he found boxes of the cleaned and packed unbreakable vials he used for Euphoria. Harry was pleased at the competence of the individual as previous cleaners had tossed the vials out, causing him no end of frustration.  Harry took a deep breath and his whole body relaxed. Worries fled as he set himself to the motions of brewing Euphoria, a task he would work at without rest until complete.

~

Draco slept late the next morning and came awake with a start feeling panicked.  It took several minutes before he could calm his breathing. Checking the clock and noting the late hour, Draco scrambled out of bed knowing Boraxn would be upset he was not present at breakfast already. The events of the day before left Draco craving his caregivers’ comfort. He quickly stripped and collected his kneeling cushion, hoping a show of subservience would win Boraxn’s approval. After running a quick brush through his long hair he scrambled down stairs and slipped quietly into the breakfast room. Boraxn sat reading his paper, a mug of coffee steaming in one hand. He  made no move to acknowledge Draco’s entrance. Draco suppressed a needy whimper and set his cushion to the side of Boraxn’s chair and knelt, eyes downcast, as he lay his head against the arm of the goblins’ chair. Boraxn lifted on thin eyebrow at Draco’s kneeling form before moving his hand down to pet the boys hair idly while he read. Draco made a soft sighing sound as he melted into the touch.

“We have a busy day ahead of us little one. Mikhail will be taking us into London shortly to meet Dr. Chesca. This a simple procedure and you will be brought home this evening. The next couple days however will be spent in bed recovering before you are returned to Madam Adele’s,” as Boraxn spoke Draco sat quietly rubbing his head against the goblins bony hand. He mewled softly, enjoying the attentions.

“Yes Master. I will behave for you. I will not bring disappointment. Please don’t let them harm me. I’m frightened,” the boys’ tone sounded broken.

“You had an overwhelming day yesterday from what I heard. I suspect there was more that happened then I am aware, but I will leave that for now. I am glad for it as I see you now understand fully the protections I offer you. You are an unwanted thing Draco. I have made you valuable, but without me you are nothing. Remember always that you are property, pet.” Draco nodded happily and tried to push closer to his caregiver, leaving him to rub helplessly against the side of the wood chair.

“I want you to go get dressed for the day Draco. Mikhail will bring the car around shortly and we must be ready,” Boraxn untangled his fingers from the boys hair and returned to drinking his coffee. Draco rose gracefully and left the breakfast room to prepare for the day, leaving his silk cushion behind. An hour later Draco stood beside Boraxn on the front steps. waiting for Mikhail. They made an odd couple; the willowy boy child and the somber goblin beside him. Where Boraxn was all sharp angles and seriousness Draco was lush curves and sensuality, a boy child bred to be a courtesan. The sleek black Lincoln town car pulled up to the front step and Mikhail came around to hold the door for Draco and Boraxn. The pair settled in for the long drive into town.

~

It was mid-afternoon by the time the trio arrived at Dr. Chesca’s private London practice. It was set in an old converted brownstone in a well-off residential neighborhood.  Ivy climbed up the front of the building and cheerful hedges sat perfectly trimmed below a large picture window. A small gated yard came right up to the sidewalk and if you stared too long you felt your eyes sliding away almost slipping over the image of normalcy. Mikhail came around and opened the door of the car, stepping back to let Boraxn climb out. During the ride the goblin had slipped on an amulet imbued with concealing charms that would keep muggles from noticing the man, even if he stood on their toes. Draco followed, a small tremble betraying the brave facade he had kept up most the ride, and he worried the hem of his dress between his finger. Boraxn gave a sharp slap to the boy’s hands, “That is unbecoming. I insist you break that habit immediately.” Draco nodded submissively, dropping his hands to his side,  and followed a step behind and to the right of Boraxn as he made his way up the front walk.  They were let in by a smartly dressed butler who waved them into a front parlor to wait.

Boraxn settled himself in a large wingback chair, smoothing his pant legs, and waited silently. Draco knelt on the floor beside him, struggling to keep his eyes downcast when there were so many new things in the room he would have loved to explore. Books lined the walls and he could just make out some of the titles from where he knelt. Just as he was about to pull his eyes back down to the carpet Dr. Chesca bustled in. She was a tall, severe woman with a face made of sharp angles and small storm-grey eyes set below a hard brow. She wore her lank blonde hair in a tight bun that pulled the skin of her forehead taut and shiny.  Her labcoat clung to sharp shoulders that sprouted out like wings and fell straight, not a curve to interrupt the crisp white lines. On sight one would quickly determine she was a rather unpleasant individual. Draco felt a chill race down his spine and felt bile rise in his throat as he fought down his rising panic. Boraxn gave her a slight smile, laying a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“I am ready for the boy. I assume you have been fasting him?” Dr. Chesca’s voice was tinged with an accent that spoke of Eastern countries, a little rough and gravely around the edges. Boraxn nodded, “I have. May we head back and have him prepped? I would like to be home before late evening if possible.” They spoke above and about the child as if he had neither sense or free will. The doctor gave a sharp nod and turned on her heel, waving for them to follow as she headed back through the door. Boraxn rose and started after her, Draco falling in  step behind and to the right of Boraxn. The hallway they walked down was papered in pretty floral print that added a sunny air, and the floors were  a honey-colored wood.  The image of an inviting home was shattered when Dr. Chesca steered them through a door at the end of the hall which lead into a stark white operating room. The floor was tiled in white ceramic and the walls were painted to match. Glass and steel cabinets lined one wall, revealing an assortment of implements and other objects needed for the running of a medical practice. A high table stood in the center of the space, draped in a paper sheet with a single thin pillow laid at one end. Lights and monitoring equipment were crowded around the table and a thin man dressed head to toe in green scrubs and a face mask stood fiddling with one of the machines. Draco gulped audibly and barely restrained himself from trying to press his body into Boraxn’s back, seeking comfort.

“Boy, you will strip and lay out on the table for examination. The procedure is rather simple and shouldn’t take long,” Dr. Chesca’s voice was brisk and uncaring. Draco jumped to obey, suppressing his desire to tremble, and pulled his dress up and over his head. Blonde hair tangled around his face and arms and he fought briefly to escape. Boraxn glared at the boys show of indignity. Draco blanched at the look on Boraxn’s face and pulled a black elastic band from his wrist before wrapping his hair  into a quick bun and securing it with the tie. Boraxn nodded his approval and Draco continued to undress, folding each garment with care as it was shed.  The medical assistant had to help Draco onto the high table where the boy stretched out nude, turning his head to one side to avoid catching anyones’ gaze. Dr. Chesca picked up a clipboard from one of the prep trays and quickly began to rattle off basic health questions, which Boraxn answered in a clipped precise tone; as this was being done the man in scrubs took Draco’s vital signs and hooked him up to a heart monitoring machine. The assistant was pulling a thin sheet over the boys’ lower half when a slim silver band on one wrist caught his eye, “You need to remove this.” He tapped the bracelet with one finger. Draco gave him a look of horror and started to whimper. Boraxn turned an angry look on the child when he caught sight of the tech attempting to remove Draco’s wristlet, which held a powerful suppressing magic. “Leave that be. It has no ill effect on today’s proceedings.” Dr. Chesca nodded her head in agreement, a dark look in her eyes as she watched the man, and he pulled away as if singed.

Dr. Chesca handed the complete medical questionnaire to her tech and waved him away, “We will begin his examination and then Mr. Tanner will administer the anesthesia.” The woman started by checking the boys heart and lungs, making him cough and breathe deeply. She pressed at his stomach, checking for tenderness or pain and the glands at his neck. His ears and eyes were examined with a bright shining light which left him blinking owlishly. Then the thin sheet was removed, revealing his underdeveloped manhood. The woman made a soft, appreciative sound at the sight of the boys bare form, trailing a hand down one milky thigh. “He is truly beautiful Boraxn. I feel what I do today will be making art of such raw form. May he blossom into everything you imagine,” the woman’s tone was reverent. Boraxn came up beside the table, standing just a head taller, and gave his charge an appraising look,“He would have been wasted as a freed person. Unprotected and unwanted, the world would have crushed such delicacy.”  Dr. Chesca nodded in agreement before continuing to examine Draco. She took his sack in hand, palming it gently and probing it with her long slender fingers. Draco made a small breathy noise and pressed into the women's ministrations, eliciting a chuckle from the woman. She moved to wrap her hand around his small penis, giving a few firm tugs as Draco writhed on the table, overwhelmed with sensation he did not understand. The small organ twitched, starting to stiffen. “What a pretty responsive clitty he has,” the doctor said before pulling away and leaving him laying glassy eyed on the table. Moments later Mr. Tanner was covering Draco’s face with an oxygen mask as he instructed him to breath deeply. It was not long before unconsciousness took him and the pair set to work removing the boys balls and much of the extra skin surrounding them. Dr. Chesca pulled the remaining flesh smooth before applying precise stitches, leaving a surface of lily white flesh that mimicked a woman’s mound.

~

Draco drifted in a haze as his mind slowly bubbled to consciousness. He only barely registered a tightness in his groin as colors danced behind his closed lids. Draco reached down to touch himself beneath the thin blanket,  finding a smoothness where his balls had once been.  He could tell from the lack of bandaging that a magical salve must have been applied. As Draco’s hand played across the empty place his cock twitched, reminding the boy of the exciting sensations the doctor had introduced him to. Draco slowly opened his eyes, surprised to find himself in his own bed, and noted he was truly alone. Guilt blossomed in Draco’s chest as he reached down to grab his small cock in his hand, fisting it clumsily and tugging up and down in the same motions he remembered from earlier. The organ stiffened quickly. Draco rubbed his palm over the head and sucked in mouth full of air, overcome with sensation. It bubbled up in him, starting in his toes and sweeping upward until he felt afire. He used his free hand to tickle across the sensitive flesh were his sac no longer lay and slowly a pleasing tightness began to build just under the surface of his groin. Draco was unsure how to process such feelings and a moan escaped his lips as he continued to jerk erratically on his small, hard erection, while massaging the new smoothness. Finally the tension could build no longer and he exploded in orgasm,  cumming in a thin dribble of clearish fluid. Draco lay twitching and sated, his mind foggy with pleasure. The boy had no context for what had happened, but he knew it was good and he hoped to explore the sensations in the future.

**  
**


	3. Chapter 3.a

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be a 7 year time jump between chapters 2 and 4. In order to allow you, my readers, to better understand the events of those 7 years I have compiled two "mini" chapters that are a collection of new and personal correspondence during that time period.
> 
> (Minor edits made to dates to preserve continuity 8/6/2015)

Daily Prophet:

Elusive Hero Harry Potter Returns to Public Eye

July 15, 2004

 

July 14th- The annual Ministry Summer Ball, in support of the Orphan Children Fund, was a great success this past Friday bringing in an unprecedented number of donations. Among the guests was one Harry Potter, elusive war hero and one time savior of Wizarding Britain, in his first official public appearance since Death Eater Trials of 1998. He cut a fine figure in a set of emerald robes and no longer held the sickly pallor we remember from years past. It appears that rumors of him seeking treatment for his suspected substance abuse must be true. When asked why he had retired from public life for so long, he responded that he had taken time away for his health.

 

Matters appear strained between the Golden Trio as Ronald Weasley and his wife Hermione Weasley quickly excused themselves from the event upon Harry’s arrival, despite Hermione’s extensive work with the Orphan Children Fund. Instead he attended in the company of one Theodore Knott, former Slytherin and child of convicted Death Eater, some wonder if the former golden boy may not be as stable as many hope. The pair appeared closer than casual acquaintances, even going as far as sharing the first dance and appearing rather enamored. Should we be concerned about the safety of association with the bygone hero considering his history of volatile behavior and new association with undesirable individuals?

 

Daily Prophet:

 

The Hero Who Gives? Many Take Note of Continued Charitable Support of Harry Potter

October 17, 2006

 

City of London Police

London, England

Incident Report #9005127-01

Report Entered: 12/16/2006  19:37:34

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Date/Time Reported:

12/16/2006 20:03:17

Incident Type/ Offense

  1. Possession of Illicit Substance

  2. Intent to Distribute Controlled Substance




Reporting Office:                                                                             Approving Officer:

CROWLEY, JAMES (467)                                                           WILSON III, JOSEPH (213)

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Persons

Role          Name                                     Sex Race Age DOB             Phone             Address

WITNESS WHALEN, LUCIA             F 40 WHITE ------                      ---------      -----------------

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Offenders

Role                   Name                                Sex Race Age DOB             Phone           Address

DEFENDANT GATES, HENRY            M 19 WHITE ------                      ---------      -----------------

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Property

Class                      Description                   Make                  Model            Serial#            Value

______________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Narrative

 

On Wednesday December 16th, 2006, Henry Gates (--------, of ------------St. London, England) was placed under arrest at --- Roscoe St., after being observed attempting to sell a controlled substance known as Euphoria Blue to an undercover officer. When the officer identified himself and attempted to make arrest Gates displayed loud and tumultuous behavior. Officer Crowely used force to take Gates into custody restraining him before cuffing and placing him in a waiting squad car for transportation.

 

On the above time and date, I was on un-uniformed duty in an unmarked police cruiser assigned to this Administration Section, working from 7:00 PM-5:00 AM. At approximately 7:58 PM I was on foot when Gates propositioned me to purchase Euphoria Blue, a known drug. I proceeded to show interest until the defendant revealed he was actively in possession of the substance before identifying myself and attempting arrest. Upon placing the defendant into custody I radioed for back up and waited for response before transporting the defendant to a local detention center.

 

London Times:

 

**Euphoria Blue Continues to Plague London Streets:**

Three Students Found Dead in Dorm room at University of Arts London

December 18th, 2006

 

Daily Prophet:

 

Altruistic Former Hero, Harry Potter, Funds New Children’s Wing at St. Mungo’s

September 29, 2007

 

February 9th, 2009

BBC World News Reporting:

English authorities continue to work with  UNODC (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime) and INTERPOL (International Criminal Police Organization)  to control the spread of Euphoria Blue. Deaths related to the drug are at an all time high. Use and distribution of Euphoria Blue are spreading faster than previous drugs new to the market. The drugs volatile nature has made it difficult to study and contain. There have been no major busts and the location of manufacture is still unknown.

April 23, 2010

Lord Harrison Potter Black:

    I have been most pleased with our continued business arrangements. I would like the opportunity to make your acquaintance personally. I have been most impressed with your ability to move seamlessly between the muggle and magical world. I have kept up with muggle news reporting. I would hope you would trust a long time business associate, such as myself, and deign to join me for a recital I will be holding at my London estate. I have a young protegee who will be making his debut on Friday the 18th of June at 7.30pm. If you are able to attend please RSVP by June 4th and a portkey will be owled for the event.

With regard,

    B. Belchrot

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 3.b

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be a 7 year time jump between chapters 2 and 4. In order to allow you, my readers, to better understand the events of those 7 years I have compiled two "mini" chapters that are a collection of new and personal correspondence during that time period.
> 
> (Minor edits made to dates to preserve continuity 8/6/2015. Material which was accidentally left off in original posting has been added.)

May 15th, 2005

Dear Monsieur Belchrot,

 

  I am writing in regards to the academic progress of your charge Draco Malfoy. We have been most impressed with the childs rapid progress and excellent performance as you will see in the attached grading rubric; though we were reluctant to accept the male child into our elite school for girls he has proven a credit to our establishment. Draco shows a unique ability to pick up most any subject placed before him with ease.

We are hoping in another year you will permit us to increase his course load. In the last year we have seen a marked improvement in his attitude, no longer is he the sullen child of years previous, though he still struggles to make meaningful social connections with his peers. Draco is seen as a loner and often found secluded by himself at times when we encourage social interaction such as Sundays and evenings. We would recommend in the off months you try to encourage him in interacting with those in his age group. We believe this would better allow him to adapt and fit in. He is a brilliant, but overly serious child.

 

                                                                                                    With regard,

 

                                                                                                               Madame Adele Trevant

  


Year 3 Grade Reporting

                                  

 

Reading                                  A                                                 English                                    A

 

Math                                      B                                                 Science                                     B-

 

History                                   A                                                 Deportment                             A

 

Arts                                       A                                                  Music                                       A

 

             Drawing                                                                                  Piano        

             Painting                                                                                  Harp

                                                                                                            Vocals

 

Foreign Languages                A

  French

  Latin

June 15th, 2006

 

Mr Belchrot:

 

Draco continues to be fearful of his magic despite my tutelage. He refuses to practice spellwork without the presence of his suppressor band significantly impeding what I am able to teach him. Upon completion of our work together I regret to inform Draco will only be capable of the most basic spellwork and charms. Considering the nature of his future position I have done my best to ensure he has control over those spells which will be most useful to him such as minor healing charms and those dedicated to enhancing sex play. I hope this will be to your satisfaction. If not I would recommend the removal of his suppressor bracelet to better facilitate magical study.

 

                                                                                                            With Regard,

                                                                                                                              U.R.

  


March 1, 2010

Draco,

 

I have enclosed a selection of piano pieces I would like you to focus on over the next few months. These are in preparation for your debut in June. A number of my very important business associates will be in attendance. I am assured by your headmistress you are ready for such an important task. Rodolphus will be collecting you on the last day of May for the summer holidays. Your debut will be on the 18th. The household looks forward to welcoming you home.

 

                                                                                                               My regard,

                                                                                                                             B. Belchrot

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long gap between updates. I will never be able to promise regular updates, but I have no intention of abandoning the story,

~Seven Years Later ~

Year: June 2010

Draco stood patiently on the steps of Madam Adele’s Finishing School and Academy for Young Girls as he awaited Rodolphus, who would be taking him home for the last time. It had been ten years since he first stepped through the academy’s doors and in that time he’d grown from a frightened and sullen child  into a graceful waif . The boy child struck a fine figure with white blonde hair falling in soft curls to the middle of his back and a pale blue sheath dress showing off the curve of his slight hips. It was a warm day, the first kiss of summer, and a wonderful time for new beginnings. Draco sighed deeply and watched Boraxn’s black town car make its way lazily up the drive. It took only moments to see Draco’s trunks loaded and him settled comfortably in the back seat. As the car pulled away Draco took the portkey Rodolphus handed through the partition window and felt the heavy tug pulling him through space and back to Boraxn’s estate.  

Draco  found himself in the front parlor, a touch of dizziness just fading from his mind, as he looked around the space with disinterest. Already the boy felt homesick for school and the strict routine that had made up a large portion of his life so far.  Boraxn’s estate had forever left the boy unsure of himself and longing for something he could not name. Time at the estate these last few years had  been filled  with confusing lessons in carnal pleasure, flirtation, and subservience.  After waiting many moments without Gretel or the aged butler Mr. White coming to greet him Draco made his way above stairs.

Little had changed over the years and the space was spartan. Draco wondered if other children lived in such barren cold places. He thought back  to the dorms  filled with chattering girls who hung clippings, articles, and fairy lights from their bunks.  Shaking his head Draco pushed aside his melancholy and moved to the wardrobe to change into a pair of soft grey trousers and a fitted sweater. The last year had seen the androgynous child become less and less  happy with the feminine identity thrust on him from a young age. Feeling more himself Draco headed through the empty manor and sequestered himself in the upstairs music room which Boraxn had given him for his 12th birthday. A sleek baby grand piano took up much of the small space and called to the brooding youth. Draco perched neatly on the edge of the piano bench raising pale  hands to the keys. Soon his long slender fingers flew across ivory keys wringing a haunting melody from the instrument, filling the the manor house to the rafters with the musings of the weary.

Mikhail stood silently outside the door to Draco’s music room and listened to the boy  play, enraptured by the boy's  talent.

~

The day was unseasonably hot for late May and Harry felt sweat droplets slipping down his spine despite the light linen robes he wore. His eyes felt itchy and dry as he ran a hand over his face regretting the contacts he chose to wear for this event. It was the 3rd Annual Picnic and Silent Auction to benefit the Lily & James Potter Children’s Trauma Ward at St. Mungo’s and Harry was forced to be present despite the unpleasant weather due to his funding of the Ward years previous. The event was being held at Hogwart’s this year and a patchwork of colored blankets were spread out around Black Lake. Charmed picnic baskets sat nestled in the center of each blanket, putting a veritable feast of delicacies at one’s fingertips. Small charmed boats bobbed at the edge of the lake allowing those interested to glide out on the water for privacy. Opposite the Lake and back several hundred feet a small stage had been erected to host the ceremony and long tables flanked it each declaring some trip or item that was up for auction. Groups of wizards milled about the tables scribbling down bids on whatever caught their fancy. Normally a small event, this year it seemed to be a crush with just over three hundred in attendance. Harry hated the better attended events and usually tried to avoid them. His attendance was for reputation's sake more than anything else and he hated to put himself out.

“Harry? Harry Potter as I live and breathe!” a breathless red faced man shrieked  as he bumbled up to the brooding man. Harry flinched at the voice and turned to a face straight from his past, Neville Longbottom, and trailing behind him Luna Lovegood, her face painted in the same sleepy dreaminess he remembered from their youth. It had been almost seven years since Harry had been in the company of any of his acquaintances from Hogwarts. He still remembered the day George told him off for nearly killing a child in Diagon Alley while going through withdrawls from Euphoria Blue.

“Mr. Longbottom,” Harry greeted stiffly nodding to Luna as she stepped up beside her husband, laying a soothing hand on his arm. Neville watched Harry with wide hurt eyes. Time had lain a heavy hand on Neville and his brown hair was streaked liberally with grey. Though he had thinned and filled out in his late teens, as a grown man he more resembled his child self rounded and  clumsy. His hands flapped uselessly at his sides, fingers stained from years working with plants and soils, as he tried to determine the best response to his once friend.

Luna hummed lightly, her pale eyes bored into Harry unblinking in a most disconcerting fashion, “Your aura is quite troubled. It shifts without settling, as if you are many people layered on top of the other. That is quite unusual you know.” Neville turned a soft indulgent smile on his wife, a look perfected from years exposed to her oddness. Harry raised one well manicured brow questioningly. “Don’t mind her Harry. You know how Luna can be at times,” Neville responded with an uneasy tone as he attempted to slip into the familiarity of their youth.

“It’s Lord Potter-Black if you would,” Harry responded in the careful clipped tones of a Pureblood, “And I have no reason for knowing of Mrs.Lovegood’s behaviors. We do not operate in the same circles if you recall.”

Neville narrowed his eyes in irritation at Harry, “I see. Well we should be off I do believe. I am sure Luna would like to see the offerings for this years silent auction.” Neville’s tone rang with thinly veiled anger as he wrapped a firm arm around Luna’s waist and steered her away. The couple disappeared into the crowd and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. As he was turning to slip away from the party a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and Harry jumped. Warm lips brushed over Harry’s ear and the stoic dark haired man sunk into his companion, “ Brynn I thought you were not available for this event? The agency said quite firmly you were on holiday.”

“I could never abandon you to the masses Harry. You have become dear to me over the years,” the escort whispered in Harry’s ear. Harry snorted at his declaration and pulled away straightening his robes. “Do not play me false Brynn. You know that your frank nature  is what endears me to your person. If you wish to go the way of the others begone and I will send around your fee,” Harry waved a dismissive hand as he turned his focus to the small stage as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, made his way up.

Brynn pouted prettily at Harry’s dismissal, frustrated with himself for falling so carelessly into the routine that charmed his other patrons. He thrust a slender hip out and tried to strike a seductive pose in hopes of tempting Harry’s attention back to him. He had  curled his red locks neatly for the occasion and they fell  to his shoulders, glimmering in the sunshine. His eyes of a pale grey were outlined with kohl to play up their delicate shape and  he wore robes in a mossy shade of green that complimented his coloring. Every detail painstakingly chosen to tempt the man before him. Brynn craved the power Harry carried about him so casually, as a moth craved the flame right before it burned them up. Brynn reached out a pale freckled hand and wrapped it around Harry’s forearm snuggling close to him, “I’ll be truthful the fee for these events tempts me. I also, shamefully admit, I crave you.” A sigh left the redhead's lips as he admitted far more than he wished. The declaration was needed to smooth over the damage he had done in an instant. Harry gave a curt nod and brought his free hand up to caress Brynn’s arm where it twined around his own. The flirtatious redhead snuggled into Harry’s side as they watched the Minister’s speech. A small smug smile teased at Harry’s lips in response to the escorts submissive behavior.

~

Brynn sat, legs dangling over the fire escape outside his flat, watching the smoke from his cigarette float lazily up into the early morning gloom. Shadows played across the alley, fleeing before the slowly rising sun. Dark bruises were blooming along his neck and shoulders from the rough hours he had spent with Harry. The ministry event had been a poor idea, and he regretted ending his holiday a day early to rush off so impulsively.  His partner had been overly rough, which was unusual for him, and Brynn knew the coming day would bring one final lavish gift to end their assignation.

He ran a freckled hand through his hair, taking a strong drag on the cigarette he held, and let out a shuddering sigh. Thin shoulders drooped forward as Brynn curled in on himself, the gesture of someone long used to self comfort. Pulling his legs up to rest his head across his knees Brynn began to rock slowly in place. The grate-like bottom of the fire escape landing bit into his tender flesh, leaving a pattern of small red welts that ached in time to his rocking. He felt the cum cooling on his thighs. The young whore cursed himself quietly for falling for a patron; it had been a novice mistake that left him vulnerable and always lead to the ending of an engagement. The only thing less attractive than an old whore was a clingy one.

Shaking off his malaise, Brynn unfolded himself while tapping out the remains of his fag, and slipped back into his flat through the open window. The sheets in his room were tumbled and half off the bed. The room smelled strongly of musk and sex. Brynn began to methodically strip the bed in an attempt to put the dark haired man behind him. Harry had been an odd one from the beginning of their arrangement, with a way of digging under a person's skin and staying there. He had a quiet intensity and a confidence in himself that was unusual in Brynn’s clients. Often the men he took to his bed were unsure or unsettled in some way seeking solace in a whore to fill in for what they lacked in their daily life. Harry however was not seeking to fill some unfathomable void.

Brynn truly didn’t understand what had led the man to a whore’s bed, but he did know he left a string of broken hearted men behind him. The agency had sent Brynn out as he had a reputation for being jaded and sarcastic, an attitude hard earned from a lifetime in the profession. He had been sold into sexual slavery as a young child and only freed at fifteen thanks to an Auror raid, which sent his owner’s to Azkaban and him back on the streets to fend for himself. Now he, like a number of his colleagues, was pining for the brooding once hero who came into his life like super nova, burning hot and bright only to flash out in a blink. They had lasted nearly a year, the longest any of Harry’s boys had lasted, and he was ashamed of himself for letting onto just how deeply he had fallen.

Brynn dumped the linens over the edge of the fire escape and into the alley littered with trash and overflowing dumpsters. He watched them fluttering down, a blood red stain on the grey landscape. He would worry about replacing the bedding come true morning when the sun would chase away the shadows and create a time for beginnings. He returned to his room to gather the jewelry and other items he had received during his assignation with Harry into a box for the Pawnbroker. A whispered spell and tap of his wand healed the worst of the bruises to a faded yellow that would be gone in a day or two. He would use the clawing sadness of this loss as a step upon which he would build a new life. He was done being a whore. Bartering his body meant little, but he never intended to gamble his heart in the process.

~

Harry slammed the door of his London flat swearing colorfully and running his hands through his hair leaving it tousled and matted. He quickly began stripping his crumpled robes, while talking rapidly into the bluetooth device slipped over one ear. He was not pleased his last night with Brynn had been interrupted by business and he fully intended to take a pound of flesh out of the parties responsible for the disaster, which dragged him home at such an ungodly hour.

“Timmons, you get your ass in here or so help me I will hex you ten ways till Tuesday,” Harry called into the empty flat before returning to his rapid fire phone conversation. A soft pop accompanied the arrival of Timmons, a squat broad shouldered man with a face like that of a bulldog, he leaned one hip against the doorway between the living room and entrance hall watching his dark haired employer with amusement. Harry growled in frustration at the individual on the end of the call, wrenching the small plastic device from his ear he threw it across the room before turning a glare on Timmons.

“I see you were informed of the Auror raid on the new processing facility in Surrey,” Timmons said with a voice like broken glass on asphalt, sharp and grating.

“Yes, Timmons I have heard about the Auror raid,” Harry responded with barely contained rage as he glared viciously at his second in command, “I have also heard about the safe house full of obliviated production workers I now have to sort out. I have a rather large shipment of Euphoria which was confiscated, a shipment which has been paid for and is expected for delivery two days hence. I am less than pleased with this recent development, Timmons.” Harry paced the entrance hall as he spoke gesturing wildly and looking rather undone. “Moving our enterprise into the wizarding world was not supposed to be fraught with so many issues. We have had no trouble operating unimpeded in the muggle world, but one step into the magical and I am dealing with a world of frustration,” Harry had sat heavily on a hard backed chair that sat in the entrance hall, his robes hanging open, as he began working off his dragon hide boots.

“You stepped on a lot of toes, Harrison, when you decided to push into the magical market. Eyes, which were turned away from you when you targeted muggles, have taken offense that you now threaten their profits. You would do well to align yourself with an established magical enterprise. We discussed the possibility of an alliance, but you were reluctant,” Timmons attempted to reason with the frazzled wizard.

“I hate to agree you may be right. I hate negotiating with the criminal organizations in the magical world, I hate dealing with wizards as a whole. We need to make this jump into magical production; I cannot continue doing all the charms work for the equipment. I have other priorities and the few wizards we have in employ cannot be trusted with such delicate work. I have an invitation from Boraxan Belechrot to a recital he is holding for some protege of his or some such. Send my acceptance and I will see what can be negotiated. Boraxn has approached me in the past and I am sure he will be amenable to our situation.”

Timmons nodded, “I think negotiating with the goblin is a good move. We won’t have to cope with the deceit of wizards,” he said with a sneer. Harry nodded in agreement as he dropped his heavy boots to the floor and stood.

“I need to get changed and sort out the production workers. I am going to brew the order for the Sherazi family, which was confiscated. Have materials moved into my private labs. Send a letter to Belechrot advising him I will be attending the recital. Then sent a note to the Sherazi advising I will be a day late in delivery and include a gift in apology. I recommend one of the spells books we received from the Lestrange Estate a few years back. I also need you to send a parting gift to Brynn,” he paused worrying his lip between his teeth, “Send the standard gift and the bolt of lavender silk we received recently, that should be acceptable.” With a dismissive wave Harry disappeared down the hall. Timmons watched the dark haired wizard disappear down the hall before apparating away.

~

May 31st, 2010

Mr. Belechrot,

    I am writing to inform you of Lord Harrison James Potter Black’s intention to attend the recital of your protegee on June 12, 2010 at 7.30pm.

With regard,

Timmons St. Clare

Secretary to the House of Black

~

Boraxn held the heavy parchment envelope in his knobby hands a smug smile twisting his features. He stroked his thumb reverently over the Black crest pressed in dark wax seal. He had long sought an alliance with the powerful wizarding house of Black, having silently watched the newest head rise to power. He had a grudging respect for the human who proved to have a goblin’s shrewdness. He intended to dangle Draco before him like one of the many pretty whore’s the man was known to favor in hopes of capturing his interest and negotiating a valuable alliance.

Boraxn lifted his head at the sound of soft scratching at his door, “Enter Draco.” The willowy youth slipped in on silent feet and knelt gracefully before the goblin’s desk, eyes respectfully trained on the floor. “What can I do for you Draco?”

“I wish to respectfully request, Master, that you review my mastery of the compositions you provided for the upcoming recital. I would not wish to bring shame to your house, Master,” the boys voice was soft and trembling. It was an uncommon occurrence for him to come to Boraxn’s private office without invitation and the child was reasonably nervous.

“I am pleased to hear you have been so diligent in your efforts. I will review my schedule and set a time with Mr. White when I will be able to attend you. You are dismissed.” Draco rose and slipped from the room like a ghost unheard and leaving no sign he had come. Boraxn smirked, the child was perfection, with his submissive manner and blooming sexuality trapped forever at its peak.  

     

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Mikhail. A slightly more human side of Harry.

Draco was just slipping into unconsciousness when he heard the snick of the door opening and a scraping as the wood passed across the floor. Draco turned over wearily and blinked, trying to clear his vision as the bright light from the hall spilled into the room, blinding him. Mikhail slid into the room and closed the door behind him, plunging the room back into darkness. Realizing who his visitor was, Draco pushed himself into a sitting position and scooted to the head of the bed, making room for his favorite guard to sit down. Mikhail sat gingerly, wincing as the metal springs poked up through the thin fabric creating an uneven discomfort, before settling in to stare at Draco’s bundled form.

 

“I have petitioned Mr. Belechrot to allow me to go with you when you’re sold. We do not believe that will be at tomorrow’s recital, however. My request has been granted. It appears Rudolphus had made a similar request, but was denied due to his value to the organization.”

 

A look of shock passed over Draco’s soft features and his hands trembled where they clasped the blankets tightly about his shoulders. Then, like a wave, fear, relief and shame crested over the boy, dragging him under in a confusing miasma of emotion. His thin shoulders shook as silent tears slipped down his cheeks. Mikhail wrapped strong arms around the child’s shoulders and pulled him close, using his free hand to gently pet the blond locks that tangled about Draco’s face.

 

“I am so afraid, Mikhail. I have never known any world outside of this and now so much is expected of me. I worry I will not be graceful enough, talented enough, or beautiful enough. I just want to be Draco and not this thing that I have spent my life being molded into. I want to be Draco who plays jazz piano, not Mozart, who reads mystery novels and not classics, who hates magic and wants to see the world. I feel like I have my foot halfway in two worlds and as much as I cling to my true self I am pushed further and further into another self I resent. I want to go back to school. There I had just enough freedom to explore my own interest, but here I am a slave. I do so well at it, and I do not hate it entirely….” Draco’s voice faded off as another sob shook his small frame, and he burrowed deeper into Mikhail’s embrace.

 

“You will never be a free person Draco. You know that and I know in your fear you find hope, but that is a cruelty. You need to learn to compromise. Learn how to use what you are to obtain some of what you want. You like bringing comfort to Mr. Belechrot, I have seen the joy service brings to your eyes. It seems you simply chafe at the demands for femininity and some of the subjects you are forced to favor. When you are sold, charm your new owner into providing you that freedom, but do not nurse this rebellion inside yourself. You know it will bring pain and punishment. I hate watching you suffer. You’re a good kid, Draco.”

 

Draco listened quietly and knew Mikhail would always favor Boraxn and his servitude. They were raised in the magical underworld where such things were as common as air. Mikhail had little belief or understanding in the freedom of the muggle world. Draco knew from his time at Madam Adele’s that a whole world existed beyond their small community, filled with wondrous things.

 

“Why am I a slave and you are free?” Draco gave in and finally asked the question which had plagued him for a lifetime.

 

Mikhail blinked several times and sat silent for long minutes, turning the question over in his head, ensuring he took in all the sharp angles and pitfalls that came with answering it. Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, he responded, “There was a war, which ignited a second war. It tore through magical Britain like a knife, fragmenting the magical community and instilling fear in many. It was started by a madman, as many wars are, who had certain archaic ideas of what magic should be. Unfortunately, many old and powerful families agreed with this madman. It took years before he was defeated and banished forever. When this happened many children were left unwanted and abandoned. They were orphans of the war. You were one such orphan. You may remember some of that time as you were not terribly young, maybe four, when you were taken from the orphanage and brought here. Your beauty set you apart and Mr. Belechrot felt it would be a crime to allow the harsh life of a war orphan, lost and forgotten, to destroy you.”

 

Draco listened in silence his long thin arms pulled over his knees protectively, “I remember the cold, the darkness, and hunger that tore at my stomach like a beast. I remember a cruel man who leered at us with clawlike hands. I remember rough wood floors and bare feet. That time is like a disjointed film, flickering from image to image without any set progression. I remember being taken away and the warmth of Master Belechrot’s office when I was brought here. Everything after that you know I am sure.”

 

Silence fell over the pair and Draco worried one plump lip between his teeth, his brow scrunched in thought. With a far off voice he spoke slowly, pausing often to try and catch the thought before it slipped away, “And sometimes….when I am sleeping in my dreams...like a far off memory there is a woman.” He stopped closing his eyes and humming softly a wordless tune that may have belonged to a lullaby, “She had a long pale face and hair like new sunshine…but her eyes were so very sad.”

 

Mikhail’s face went pale at the boys’ revelation, “Draco, never speak of this. Mr. Belechrot would like the past to stay buried. Leave this where it belongs. It was wrong of me to bring it up. I need to go now.” Mikhail pulled away from the boy roughly, and quickly left the room. Draco stared after him in shock and quickly resolved to bury the half remembered image of sorrowful blue eyes and pale features. He refused to alienate his only true ally in this odd life of his. Pulling the blankets over his head Draco snuggled back into his nest of blankets and drifted into a fitful sleep.

 

~

 

Timmons cautiously pushed the door of Harry’s office open, only to find it deserted. A crumpled suit jacket was tossed over a small stack of manila files and an abandoned cup of tea. The blinds, which he normally kept pulled tight, let in a sweeping view of the London. Timmons stepped in and searched the desk’s surface for a sign of where his boss may have vanished to at the end of the WeoTech board meeting. It had gone overly long and only broke up an hour or so before; now it was just approaching midnight. Such things normally left Harry wired and full of a manic energy that he was prone to burning off through overwork.

 

Seeing no sign of the wayward wizard, Timmons left the office and headed for the conference room next door. Harry commonly took over the room when working on a big project, preferring the long conference tables to his cramped desk. Timmons found Harry bending over a set of large blueprint,s which spread across the table alongside several fragile looking runes texts and a book in some unrecognizable, squiggly text. A pen stood poised in one hand, frozen over the blueprint before Harry. A row of cramped text had already been scribbled in the margin.

 

“Harrison?” Timmons asked questioningly.

 

The dark haired wizard startled, jerking up to stare at Timmons across the room. His green eyes were bloodshot and looked irritated. Timmons guessed he was wearing his contacts again. The top buttons of his dress shirt were undone and his tie loose, hanging limply in front of him. His tanned skin looked pallid and if Timmons squinted he could see the start of tremors in Harry’s hands.

 

“You haven’t eaten recently have you?” Timmons gravely voice was filled with a harsh sort of affection. Harry blinked owlishly at the man and shook his head before turning back to the project before him, pulling the book of foreign text closer and bending near in half to study it closely.

 

Timmons slid a pair of Harry’s favorite wood framed glasses across the table, “Put these on. You have the recital with Mr. Belechrot tomorrow and you won’t want to look like a junkie. I am going to call for curry to be delivered and I will head down to meet the driver at reception. Once you’ve eaten we are going to pack this up and get you home to bed.” Harry nodded absently waving the man out the door. Timmons just shook his head, slipping his cellphone from his pocket, as he closed the conference room door.  

 

~

 

Harry growled with irritation at the book of Parsel-text before him and threw it across the room. It landed with a soft thud and Harry cursed Timmons for putting cushioning charms on all of his books. He lost so much satisfaction when they didn’t bang loudly before sliding to the floor, thoroughly chastised. The board meeting had run long and late, with demands from every quarter putting more and more pressure on him. The shareholders were nervous about the upcoming weapons testing; a U.S. government contract that had come up for grabs in the last year had stiff competition and they were frantic.

 

Early testing of the prototype had been shaky, but Harry was fairly certain he had corrected the issue with the runic inscriptions and everything should go smoothly. He had become an expert at combining magic and muggle technologies over the years, and worked hard to build WeoTech into the respected weapons development company it had become. The trouble came in keeping everything quiet and avoiding Auror involvement, which so far had not presented an issue. Growling, Harry turned back to review the Parsel-runes he had sketched on the blueprint for the thousandth time since closing the meeting.

 

Timmons bustled back into the room about an hour later, carrying a plastic sack full of take out containers and a handful of paper plates. Harry glared up at the interruption, but was quickly cowed by the dark look his second in command gave him. Timmons dropped his load on the table before collecting the book Harry had thrown, and returned it to the table without comment. Timmons then slipped the blueprints out from under Harry’s nose and packed them back into their respective folders, which were stacked on a chair nearby. Removing a compact mirror from his pocket he pressed it into Harry’s hand, staring pointedly at the glasses that had gone ignored since his earlier visit. Harry shot Timmons a venomous look before quickly removing the irritating lenses and slipping his glasses on.  

 

“You're going to sit and finish that curry I brought for you. Then I am having a driver take you home - where you will go to bed even if I have to sick Maria on you - and you will not rise until at least noon,” Timmons’ tone conveyed his displeasure and willingness to bodily ensure Harry’s compliance.

 

Harry gave a stiff nod before pulling the plastic bag closer to examine its contents, a red curry with white rice and side of naan. Harry gave a boyish grin before digging in, “You know how to charm a man. If you were gay, Timmons, I would woe you.” Timmons rolled his eyes and sunk into a chair across from his friend and employer. “You are a glutton for curry, Harry. I am surprised you're as thin as you are with how easy it is to get in this city.”

 

Harry blushed knowing he was being chastised for his propensity for forgetting to eat more often than was healthy. Timmons continued, “When was the last time you ate, Harrison?”

 

The dark haired man scrunched up his brow and gave Timmons a thoughtful look, “Uhm... Dinner two nights ago with the that Japanese delegation from...I don’t recall the company name. I think I may have snitched one of Maria’s fresh scones yesterday afternoon before coming in for the board meeting, but that could have been the day before.” Harry returned to his curry, flushing fiercely and avoiding Timmons’ disapproving glare.

 

“Harrison, you need a keeper, not an Enforcer. You get too wrapped up in your work. This has gotten worse and worse over the years. You are going to kill yourself and I am sick of watching it. You are at a point where you have enough of the right people in the right places that you do not need to be here all the time. In the last seven years you have built an empire that far exceeds what your predecessor could have dreamed of. You need to buy yourself one of those pretty boys you enjoy and settle down a bit. Trust your managers and VP’s to do what you pay them for. There is no reason to push for an expansion right now. Ride the wave of your success for a year or two.”

 

Harry scraped up the last of his curry, chewing slowly as he took in Timmons’s words, “I cannot do that, Timmons. I cannot continue to fulfill our weapons contracts with my current staff, not to mention overseeing our less legal ventures. I am the only one who can enchant the parsel-runes once they are set. There are very few people in the country who can do what I do.”

 

“Then send out recruiters,” Timmons tone was firm and final, “If you cannot do this then I will have to step down.”

 

Harry’s emerald eyes flashed, bright as Avada, and the relaxed slope of his shoulders stiffened into the glacial posture of the aristocracy. When he spoke, his voice was ice and winter, “I will not tolerate such threats Mr. St. Clare. If you are incapable of meeting the requirements of your position then I will have to see your contract terminated.” Timmons met those Avada eyes without flinching, knowing he no longer faced his long time friend, but Harrison Black, the cutthroat head of the Syndicate and CEO of WeoTech.

 

“You won’t find a better Enforcer in this business and you know it Mr. Black. You cannot afford to lose me,” Timmons called the man’s bluff. Harry’s shoulders relaxed marginally and he held Timmon’s gaze, “That may be true Timmons. You are damn lucky we’re friends or I would have you killed for that. It’s true I am burning up with everything I have had to juggle. Mobilize a small team of recruiters, send people east to India and across the water to America. I need rune experts and parsel-mages. I have heard parselmouths are more common in India.”

 

~

 

The morning came too early for Draco and he whined softly to himself as his alarm blared pulling him from sleep. His muscles ached from his exertions the day before and one shoulder had gone stiff and numb from the awkward position he had slept in. Half remembered nightmares left his skin feeling sticky and his hair clung to his face. Draco pulled himself up with a groan and softly padded to the bathroom for a shower before breakfast. The meal in the dining room passed in a blur and it wasn’t long before Mr. White was hustling Draco into Boraxn’s office for instruction.

 

“Tonight will be your coming out, Draco. This will be the first time interested parties will be able to view the wonderful slave you have become. I am counting on you to impress them. I will be sorely disappointed if your performance is less than exemplary. Rodolphus will be taking you to be prepared for your coming out. This will take a good portion of the day. You will cooperate with the beauticians and artists I have procured to prepare you,” Boraxn gave a lazy wave of one hand before turning back to a stack of correspondence on his desk.

 

Rodolphus stepped into the room with a leering look on his face, examining the naked youth hungrily. Draco struggled not to flinch and turn away.  Draco was aware that Rodolphus’s fear of Boraxan was the only protection he had against the man’s desire for his body. Giving a respectful nod in Boraxn’s direction to indicate his intention to depart, the man wrapped a muscled arm around Draco’s shoulders and apparated away. Draco lurched away from Rodolphus’s hold with a violent jerk, one hand held protectively over his roiling stomach. He stood in the entryway of a Roman style bath, steam curling thickly in the air. It seemed only moments before linen clad attendants silently surrounded the boy, ushering him away without a word. Their hard direct stares demanded obedience as their grasping hands pushed him along.

 

~

 

The cool of morning was bleeding into the heat of late afternoon when Maria, Harry’s stern Spanish housekeeper, bustled into his room, throwing the curtains open and pulling the window shades to allow blinding sunshine to spill across the sleeping man. Harry came awake with a jerk, managing to throw his splayed form from the bed to land in a heap of linens and curses on the floor. Harry glared up at the woman through strands of dark hair that clung to his face in a mess of knots and snarls. Maria gave Harry a hard, admonishing look, her work roughened hands resting on each bony hip as she stared down at him from her place by the windows. Harry shot another glare at the woman before using the bed to pull himself to his feet.

 

“It’s nearly four, Mr. Black, and you may want to get moving if you wish to accomplish anything today,” the woman spoke in heavily accented English.

 

“Damn you, woman! I told you to see to it that I get up at nine. I have a business to run, which is not accomplished lying abed all day!”

 

“Pah! Your business runs you, Mr. Black. You do not drag yourself to bed at 4am and expect me to wake you at a decent hour. If you go to bed at a decent hour then you earn your right to be up at one,” The woman responded in a firm tone as she bustled about collecting the spilled linens from in front of his feet and working to set the recently vacated be to rights.

 

“Why do I put up with you?” Harry asked curiously as he watched her sharp, efficient movements, quickly remaking the bed with military precision.

 

“The real question is why do I put up with you, Mr.Black? Considering you ran off your last two housekeepers with your waspish tone, carelessness, and quasi-legal business practices.”

 

Harry refused to respond and instead turned to separating his matted hair so he could pull enough off his face to get his glasses on. Maria just shook her head and pulled a brush from the stiff white apron she wore and pressed it into Harry’s hand. He took it with a look of disgust and went back to combing his hair back from his face.

 

“What’s for breakfast?” Harry asked, his stomach giving an appreciative grumble at the inquiry.

 

“If you wanted breakfast you should have been up at a decent hour. Lunch is well past as well, and I will not set the table for dinner until 7. As you are going out this evening, you will not be present for that meal either I assume. I am sure you can scrounge for something to tide you over. I wonder why I cook for you anyway,” Maria threw her hands up in faux exasperation and strode from the room. Harry glared at the woman’s retreating back before heading for the shower.

 

A good forty five minutes later Harry was ready to face what was left of the day. His dark hair was pulled back, neatly clasped at the base of his neck. He wore a tailored suit in a black with dove grey pinstripe. Underneath was a jade green shirt with buttons of onyx to offset his eyes. He wore no tie so as to lend comfort and a touch of casualness to the attire. As he stepped from his bedroom he was met by an angry housekeeper, hands again balled into fists on her hips, “I go out of my way to see a light lunch set out and you procrastinate in the shower. Why do I bother feeding you? Your halfway to a wraith as is. I should just let you waste away and then I would have no more of your hovering.” She flapped her hands angrily at the man, effectively herding him towards the kitchen. The small kitchen table was set with a selection of scones and spreads as well as a steaming mug of coffee. Harry gave an involuntary moan before biting into the flaky pastry.

 

“I love you Maria. I should marry you so I will never worry about you being snatched away,” Harry spoke around a mouthful of breakfast.

 

“I would never marry such a pretty man, so your proposal, though flattering, is declined,” she responded with a soft smile. Maria, who had lost her children young to illness, held a soft place in her heart for the orphaned business tycoon and like many mothers she turned a blind eye to his faults. The two spent the remainder of the afternoon bantering back and forth as Maria did everything she could to divert Harry from his work for the day. It was soon approaching seven and Harry found himself in his entrance hall holding a small glass bauble in one hand as he waited for the timed portkey to activate.

 

~

  
It was seven o’clock on the hour when Mikhail arrive to escort Draco home. When he saw the blonde child he had come to regard as a favored nephew, he could not withhold a sharp gasp. His attendants had wrought some kind of magic; Draco looked ethereal, almost fae-like in his perfection. Mikhail held out a strong hand, which Draco grasped tightly as they were apparated back to the Belchrot estate and Draco’s future.


	7. Chapter 6

Harry floated slowly to the ground as the portkey brought him to the steps of  a great manor house. His leather-soled dress shoes made a soft hissing sound on the granite steps. He had changed his earlier suit for one of a deep charcoal grey. His shirt was a pale shade of dove and his tie a deep red, the color of blood. Ebony-framed glasses rode low on his aquiline nose, his hair falling in a loose wave to his shoulders to frame his aristocratic features. In that moment, the once-savior looked every inch the muggle aristocrat he chose to portray himself as. Harry lifted a hand to rap on the door just as it slid open with a woosh, welcoming him into the beautiful entrance hall of dark polished woods and warm candlelight.

 

“Welcome, Lord Black, you have been expected. Drinks are being served in the drawing room if you would follow me,” Mr White, the estates’ elderly butler, said in a dry voice. He then led Harry down the hall to a small, intimate room. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls, stuffed with texts of every shape and size. A variety of leather chairs and sofas were dotted about the room, creating spaces to encourage conversation, and a small bar stood to one side where a silent, liveried servant worked to accommodate the guests. Boraxn, dressed in robes of a deep burgundy, chatted with a rotund wizard in one corner while a small group of guests gathered near the bar, their heads bent together as they whispered earnestly to one another. Harry took in the scene with cold disinterest before setting himself to examining the tomes shelved before him. Lean fingers ghosted over the spines with appreciation as he identified a number of rare volumes.

 

~

 

Draco fidgeted nervously with the folds of his dress robes as he paced the large stage which had been erected in the estate ballroom. His beloved piano sat to one side and he stared at it with a sense of dread building in his stomach, like a hard lead ball weighing him down and rendering him clumsy. A droplet of sweat crept down his brow to slide along his cheek and he batted it away, fretful he would smear the heavy makeup that outlined his eyes. He stumbled in his pacing as he went to make a quick turn and jostled a music stand, knocking it to the ground with a loud clatter. The sound made him jump and he began to tremble as he looked around, fearful somebody would hear and judge him harshly. He hastily bent to collect the fallen sheet music and felt several of the wispy curls piled atop his head fall to caress his neck. Draco swore and hastily stood, further disrupting the elaborate hairstyle.

 

“Tut tut, little lamb. Do not fret so much,” Gretel swept from the back of the stage and began to repin the fallen curls, “You will be wonderful and make Boraxn proud.” She began to rub soothingly along Draco’s back, humming a soft lullaby under her breath as she had done often when he was younger. Draco gave her a slight smile, melting into the touch and letting it ease away along with the trembling and tightness in his stomach.

 

“He says I will be sent away after my coming out. He says I am to be set up in my own house in London where I will be monitored and expected to….” Draco’s voice trailed off as he remembered the many humiliating lessons in the pleasuring of men and women. His face reddened into a deep blush as that train of thought led him to recall the vivid dreams that had followed for nights after, leaving him to wake in his bed damp and sweating. Gretel just shook her head and continued to hum soothingly in his ear. When the tension had melted from his limbs she pulled away and disappeared from the room, leaving Draco to collect himself. Draco smiled fondly at her retreating form before settling the loose pages of music on their stand and moving the whole thing back and away from the center of the stage.

  
  
  
  
  


~

 

Harry stood with one shoulder propped against one of the tall bookcases, a beautifully bound tome in hand as his eyes devoured the words on the page. The gilt lettering across the cover declared it to be Boris Pasternak’s “Dr. Zhivago.” As he read, the room had continued to fill with people and now there were some twenty gentlemen with their companions milling about and talking in hushed tones. Many had broken off into smaller groups to discuss business or politics; only Harry had set himself apart by his refusal to be drawn into conversation. Drinks had been served liberally and the occasional boisterous guffaw or unmodulated tone would break the tranquility of the scene.

 

Boraxn looked up from the group which had waylaid his attentions to observe the stoic Lord Black. He was was a striking man with bronze coloring and dark hair. He held himself with an unspoken confidence - almost a sense of superiority - that instantly made one feel nervous about his own inadequacies This demeanor seemed to serve as a buffer between him and the other guests, which appeared as deliberate as it was sincere. The young Lord wore a lively suit of charcoal, cut simply but made of fine materials that fit the hard-edged man well. One knew upon sight that he was both powerful and wealthy, yet he did not have to display it ostentatiously as many others did. This included included many of the guests Boraxn had welcomed to this event.

 

As the goblin watched Lord Black slip another book from the shelf and began skimming the page, he determined it was time to break away from his current company and make introductions. He politely took leave of the group paying court about him and approached the young lord. “Lord Potter-Black, I am surprised you have accepted my invitation. I received the RSVP from your servant, but was unsure if I should trust my own two eyes.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow at the greeting, finishing his page before closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. “Just Lord Black is fine. I did not intend to attend, but certain individuals have encouraged me to get to know you better, considering our mutual fields of interest.” Harry spoke with a bored tone, giving Boraxn little eye contact and often turning to stare wistfully towards the door. Boraxn glowered at the young aristocrat, not appreciating the dismissive manner in which he was being treated.

 

“If my hospitality is not to your taste, I am sure any further association would be unfruitful,” Boraxn’s tone held an unspoken threat.

 

Harry smiled at the fiery temper the goblin displayed and turned his full attention to the short man, “Would you care to sit so we may be on an even level?” Harry inquired, turning his head to the side and glancing down so as not to appear to be looming over Boraxn. Boraxn gave a sharp nod of consent and they both moved to a set of chairs towards the back of the room, then turned the conversation to business. To Boraxn’s delight and approval, Harry erected a muffling ward around them, allowing for privacy but with just enough garbled sound escaping to keep the other guests from suspecting the charm was present.

 

~

 

Mikhail watched Draco’s nervous pacing with amusement. The boy was wound so tight over tonight’s event. For all his hatred of his courtesan training, he had taken to music like a desert-stranded man to water. He could almost see the boy playing through the scores in his mind as his fingers twitched and flexed at his sides, begging for ebony and ivory keys.

 

“I brought the sheet music you requested Draco. You know Boraxn will punish you mightily for switching out the selected pieces.”

 

Draco turned in a flourish of cream and gold silk to stare blankly at Mikhail. Waving a dismissive hand he spoke, “I must play what I have a passion for. If he wishes me enthrall these men then I shall do it in my own way. I may be his slave, but he has given me a purpose and the training to fulfil it. It is well past time he entrusts me to do with that training what I have been molded for. The music will be what I chose.”

 

Mikhail gave a soft smile to the boy, who he thought of as a beloved brother or nephew. He quickly arranged the music at the piano before slipping out, leaving Draco to his pacing. He had only just disappeared before Rodolphus poked his head in from the back of the ballroom, barking out a quick instruction to stand ready as the performance was to begin shortly. A stillness seemed to fall over the nervous blonde at the announcement; he felt his worries flee to leave behind a quiet confidence he had rarely felt when at the manor. The rich red curtains surrounding the stage were pulled closed in a whisper of velvet and clinking of metal. A soft smile crossed Draco’s lips as he moved to the center of the stage and stood, staring intently at the curtains and waiting for them to part.

 

~

 

Mr. White stepped into the drawing room, announcing that the recital was to begin shortly. Boraxn quickly took his leave, hurrying out while his guests followed the ancient butler at a more sedate pace. Harry hung to the back of the crowd observing the odd collection of men with a discerning eye. The room they were ushered into was sumptuously decorated. Sweeping floor to ceiling windows were curtained in silk drapes with gilt rods. Above them a domed ceiling, painted in an elaborate mural portraying scenes from Homer’s The Odyssey. An enormous antique chandelier held court at the very center, bathing the space in the soft warm glow of candlelight.

 

At the far end of the large room a stage had been erected, shrouded in red velvet. Spread before it were neat rows of comfortable looking chairs, with the occasional settee set in an arch to mirror the curving of the stage. Such a seating arrangement was designed to encourage relaxation and the letting down of barriers one might normally erect in such a public venue. Harry swore not fall prey to such a common trick and settled himself stiffly in a brocade upholstered chair to the right of the stage. This arrangement gave him a good view of the proceedings, but also allowed him to move quickly to an exit if the need arose. He surreptitiously patted the front of his blazer, ensuring he had his pager in the event Timmon’s needed to reach him. As the last of the guests settled into their chairs, the curtain swept open to reveal Boraxn in his rich robes, standing center stage to greet the audience.

 

“I welcome you this evening, my friends and associates, to view the coming out of my slave. He has been under my tutelage for many years and will soon be taking an active role in serving the house of Belechrot. I want to pay special thanks to his lordship Harrison Black who has seen fit to grace us all with his presence.” At this a low murmur was taken up as many swung their heads to gape at Harry. Only a slight pursing of the lips would give any indication that Harry was irritated over the introduction.

 

“And now let us welcome Draco, of the House Belechrot,” Boraxn gestured stage left as the boy moved gracefully to stand beside his Master, eyes downcast. When he came up beside the shorter man, Draco sank to his knees and folded his hands behind his back in a show of submission. There was a general nod of approval from those watching. Boraxn gave the boys’ hair a gentle stroke before leaving the stage, settling himself comfortably on a waiting settee to enjoy the performance.

 

Draco rose slowly to his feet in a single smooth motion, like water on silk. As he lifted his chin to face the crowd, a single blond curl fell to caress his cheek. Silver grey eyes gazed out over the audience as a soft smile tilted his rose petal lips. Draco stood still and silent, allowing the audience several moments to take in his form and face as Boraxn had instructed.

~

 

Harry felt an uncontrolled tightening in his jaw, recognition washing over him as he observed the youth before him. A single word ghosted across his lips in a near silent whisper: “Malfoy.”

 

There was no denying the child’s parentage. He had the same white-blond hair of his sire and elder brother, the only difference being that they had never worn it piled in ringlets atop their heads. The boy’s . . . Draco’s eyes were the color of mercury, an unnatural silver-grey that shone with intelligence and some deeper hidden emotion Harry struggled to identify. There the resemblance started to diverge. Instead of a face of sharp planes and angles, the child had a softness about the jaw and chin, much different from the sharp, pointed face his brother had displayed at the same age. He was also on the small size for his age. While his parents and sibling had all been tall, Harry estimated Draco to be about 155cm, which would be more common for a child several years his junior. He had a feminine softness about the hip, which was accentuated by the tight fit of the dress robes he was draped in. Had Harry not been told he was a boy, he would have bet good money that the ethereal waif on stage was a young girl.  To his horror, Harry felt his cock twitch in interest as he continued to study the mysterious child of past enemy.

 

When Draco determined he had the audience's attention trained fully on him, he moved toward the piano, giving a soft tilting sway to his hips as he walked. As he moved he slid a pale wand from one sleeve and cast a wordless charm, which set the gorgeous instrument to playing the first few haunting notes to his opening piece. The feyling turned to stare back out at those gathered, drew in a deep soothing breath, and slowly began to sing the first sweeping notes of Ava Maria. His voice climbed to the rafters in the bright notes of a song long beloved by muggles, and his body swayed ever so slightly as the music flowed from his lips in perfect tune.

 

Boraxn’s eyes narrowed at the change in his designed program, but could not help but get caught up in the boys’ singing. He had never heard such passion pour from his slave's throat as he did during the performance of this piece. He could see his wonder was shared as those around him gazed at the boy with glassy, mesmerized eyes. Boraxn’s eyes flickered toward Lord Black, who sat unmoved by the music, and his brow furrowed as he felt his tentative hold on the man slipping, Draco having failed to hypnotise him with the same ease as the others.

 

The song came to a close on a final sweet note, and there wa a brief pause before the applause started, but it quickly picked up tempo and bathed the room in a cacophony of sound.

 

Draco gave the smallest of smiles, a dreamy sort of look, as he took his wand back up and charmed the piano to begin his next piece. Silver eyes closed and Draco was swept away in his mind, back to the small parlor at Madame Adele’s where the stern matron would have him play for her on Sundays after mass. Strong notes sang beneath his skin as the words for Hallelujah poured from his mouth, his body moving with the tempo of the music as one hand fingered invisible keys at his side. In that moment, he sang to the memory of the stern-faced matron who had stood as surrogate mother for most his childhood.

 

Harry’s eyes shone as he was swept up in the memory Draco was unconsciously projecting, his skills at legilimancy allowing him to see inside the child’s memory as if it were his own. He saw a small, girlish boy being dwarfed by the piano next to him, singing with a trembling voice for the elderly French matron seated at the keys. He felt the warmth of the woman’s affection and the desperate yearning of the young boy to please her. It was a disconcerting sensation, like being thrown unexpectedly into a pensieve. Harry quickly built up his Occlumency shields to cut off the flow of memories, but not before Boraxn caught sight of Harry’s reaction. The goblin smiled with an inner smugness.

 

No one clapped when this song drew to a close, too shaken, too moved by this magical child whose voice drew out the emotions of his audience with an almost violent beauty.

 

Realizing no interruption would be forthcoming, Draco again charmed the music to play for his final vocals piece, Castle on a Cloud, in which he sang the hope and belief in a dream that had followed him since childhood. He could see the castle set amongst rolling hills, rising up to the sky with spiralling towers. He saw in his mind's eye a woman in white, transparent as if a ghost, who shone with a sadness that mirrored his own. He saw children in robes who carried with them a joy he had never felt and among them he found an acceptance that could only be real in one's dreams. This was his castle, built of innocent imaginings.

 

The boy’s voice evoked Harry’s memories of Hogwarts, remembering the smell of the pitch during a game, the great hall at Halloween, the room of requirement and its sea of lost things, and a thousand other pieces of his childhood. Still lost in memory, Harry did not register the end of the song or the velvet curtain falling closed until the clapping shattered his tranquility, bringing him back to the present with a jolt.

 

~

 

During his brief respite from the performance, Draco changed out of the tight fitting robes and into a pair of crisp black slacks that hugged his softly rounded hips and behind. Over this he had pulled on a blush colored blouse of such a delicate pink it was nearly white. He had let down his riot of pale curls and they fell down his back, framing his delicate features to good effect. When the curtains opened again, he stood by the baby grand piano that had been brought from his music room for the occasion. Boraxn’s jaw hardened and his eyes flared when he saw how his slave was dressed, but he restrained his ire so as not to allow the public to see dissent among his household.

 

“I will open by performing Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2, which is performed in three movements. The piece was written for Shostakovich’s son and is a rather cheerful piece, which I hope you shall all enjoy,” with that Draco turned from his audience and settled at the piano. This time Draco spent many seconds weaving an intricate charm with his wand, brow furrowed and eyes squinting as he twisted the magic into the correct shape. Once he was satisfied, he released the charm out into the room and poised his hands over ivory keys. The sounds of a small orchestra of string and wind instruments started sweeping through the room. Draco’s shoulders went lax as his fingers fell to the keys, picking out the jaunty tune that made up Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2. The piece ended with a bright dance number that had many tapping a toe along with Draco’s playing, including the normally stoic goblin.

 

Draco stood and basked in the brief applause before introducing his final piano piece, “We will close the musical presentation with Franz Liszt’s La Campanella, which is the  the third of Linzt’s six Grand Paganini Études. This piece will be played without accompaniment.” Draco reseated himself at the piano and rolled his shoulders several times before launching into the complicated work that was La Campanella. The music came from Draco in a rush of raw emotion, flying fingers racing across the keyboard with a near-violent eagerness to bring the music into being. His body rocked with his playing, shoulders hunched, and sweat beaded across his browas the final notes cried out into the air in a flurry. The boy sagged with exhaustion on his bench and the curtain were again pulled closed.

 

Mikhail stepped quietly across the stage and collected his charge’s limp body, carrying him back behind the stage to be mothered and redressed for his final performance. Gretel fluttered about the small boy who lay exhausted on the settee where Mikhail had settled Draco. He gave them a sloppy, sleepy smile and begged them to let him rest. Gretel just tut-tutted the boy, coaxing a Pepper Up potion down his throat while Mikhail called in the maid who had been brought to tend Draco for the evening.

 

As Draco was being cared for out of sight, Boraxn made his way back on stage to announce a brief intermission before they would return for an announcement and final performance. Upon settling everyone, he moved behind the curtain and to the small dressing area which had been set aside for Draco’s use. He watched the flurry of activity as his slave was stripped, cleaned, and costumed.

 

“Though your performance was impressive, I was quite displeased to see a change in the assigned program,” Boraxn tone was cutting, “You will complete the dance performance without deviation or the punishment you have already earned will be many time worse than what you may be able to imagine. I have dealt with your growing defiance these last few years, but my indulgence will only go so far.”

 

Draco whimpered at the harsh tone Boraxn turned on him, “I am so sorry, Master. I was wrong to think I knew better than yourself. I will not deviate from my choreography. I will bring pride to your house, Sir.”

 

“See that you do,” at this Boraxn turned from the boy and returned to the stage. The curtains were pulled aside and everyone turned their attention forward once more. Harry’s face was an impenetrable mask, his thoughts a jumbled riot of feelings and memories dragged up from watching the recital.

 

“We will be completing this evenings’ event with a dance presentation by my young charge. Over the next few days I will be accepting bids for his attentions.” Harry’s eyes blazed upon hearing the boy was for sale and the mild interest he had tamped down earlier in the evening rose up with a vengeance, causing him to go rigid in his dress pants. Fantasies of humiliating and using the lost Malfoy heir had desire firing his system, and Harry turned hungry eyes to the stage, eager for another glimpse of the blonde teen.

 

Lights dimmed in the room as candles flared and went out, until only the stage was lit in bright relief against the darkness of the ballroom. The sound of bells started tinkling gently before they was joined by drums and flutes in an exotic swinging tempo. The music picked up pace, slowly at first and then fast and furious. As sound crashed over the room, Draco spun out on stage in a flurry of  red and gold gypsy skirts that hung low on his rounded hips,  held in place by a belt of tinkling medallions. He wore no top and his pale chest and dusky nipples were picked out in golden hennaed designs. Wild blond curls whipped about him as he spun faster and faster until the music stopped and his body stilled back to the crowd.

 

Taking a deep breath Draco centered himself for the next part of the performance, in which his movements alone would create the beat. He slid on a pair of bronze finger cymbals he had tucked in the waistband of his skirt and then rolled his hips, causing the medallions to sing out. Soon his feet and arms joined the rhythm, melding together a tune of bells, cymbals, and shimmering medallions.

 

Harry was mesmerized. He had seen belly dancing in the past, but never like this, never from such an ethereal being who moved with the grace of a courtesan painted in the innocence of his own purity. Draco was a vision as his hips rolled and his body flexed. The young lord felt his pulse quicken and desire continued to build in the pit of stomach like a tight hard knot. Again, he was so swept away he did not notice the song ending nor Draco taking leave of the small stage until the lights flared back to life all about the room. Boraxn was smug with his success as he observed the unsettled figure of one Harrison Black.

 

~

 

It had taken several long minutes after the end of the recital for Harry to regain his composure. He again lagged behind the group as they were ushered to a small dining room where a light supper buffet was set out. The men again  grouped together in cliques to discuss business and other affairs, while Harry stood to the side, observing without interacting. Then Boraxn swept back in the room with Draco following behind, head bowed submissively. Harry zeroed in on the pair and felt a sense of possessiveness sweep over him at the sight of the blonde. It was only moments before Boraxn and his charge were swarmed by well wishers and lecherous men wanting to get their hands on the beautiful boy. A growl built in the back of Harry’s throat as he watched one man grope Draco’s ass through the skirt he wore. Then a dark haired man, Mikhail, Harry thought, came through the door and grabbed the man, slamming his body into the wall.

 

“I suggest you not put your hands on something which you do not possess,” Boraxn said with a cold voice, strong as iron, “Mikhail is tasked with ensuring Draco’s safety and does not appreciate unwelcome hands on his person.” Draco huddled close the the goblin, unsure how to handle himself in such a crowd. He could feel the lust pouring off those gathered like a slimy film across his skin.

 

Mikhail crossed his muscled arms over his chest and gave the men a dark look. The crowd quickly cleared and Boraxn herded his charge over to the table where Harry sat sipping at a glass of scotch.

 

“Lord Black, I would like you to meet my charge Draco. Draco, this is Lord Harrison Black.”

 

Harry watched the boy studying him with his bright quicksilver eyes. He observed the play of nervous emotion in those pale orbs.

 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Draco. I was most impressed by your performance this evening. I was curious, what inspired you to play the Campanella?”

 

A look of pleasure crossed the blondes’ features at the question, “It has always been a favorite. Master Boraxn played the piece for me when I was a young child, and in that moment I told him I would one day play that. He discouraged me at the time, attempting to convince me such a technical piece was beyond a child’s skill, but I never  quite believed in my own limitations. I began working on it in school at the encouragement of the Madam who oversaw the institution I attended. I think I have spent over 400 hundred hours practicing the piece over the last several years, and though competent at playing it, I still have so much work to do.” Draco’s voice was filled with a quiet pride and intensity.

 

Harry smiled indulgently at the youth and then swore silently when he felt his pager buzzing at his hip.

  
“It has been a very pleasant evening, Boraxn, and I thank you for the invitation. Above all else it was a delight to make your acquaintance Draco,” Harry rose, taking the boys’ small hand in his and laying a kiss across his knuckles, “But unfortunately I am going to have to make a rather abrupt exit. Business never really seems to allow me a moment to myself. Boraxn, you will be hearing from me later this week regarding the discussion we had earlier.” Harry gave a slight bow to Boraxn before quickly exiting the manor, already deep in conversation on the bluetooth he had slipped over one ear.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had interest lately expressed in my continuing this. I had a good portion of Chapter 7 already written. I have edited it down and am posting a shortened Chapter 7 as a sign of good faith. More to come. :)
> 
> I will post the remainder of this chapter in the next few days when it is finished. I will probably just tack it on to the bottom of this section for continuity sake.

After Lord Black’s departure events had quickly come to a close and Boraxn saw his guests out. The Pepper Up potion Draco had been fed during intermission had begun to wear off and the boy was visibly drooping with exhaustion, his pale lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he strained to keeps his eyes open and focused. Mikhail had moved closer to the young boy throughout the evening offering his shoulder to lean on. Draco was currently pressed to his side, drifting in a half sleep, as he stood with Boraxn in the front hall. The last guest slipped out into the night and Boraxn turned on his young slave irritation twisting his wrinkled features as he observed him dozing against Mikhail’s side.

“Get the child to bed. I will see to his punishment in the morning. It will lose impact if he is not conscious enough to enjoy it,” there was a hard dangerous edge to the goblin’s voice that snapped the guard into action. Mikhail roughly shook Draco awake and kept a hand curled painfully on one arm as he dragged the boy through the house and up the servants stair to his room. Draco whined pathetically at the rough handling trying to shrug off the tight hold to no avail. Mikhail pushed the boy into a half sitting position on his bed and stripped him with quick efficient motions before turning to leave the bundled up laundry piled on the floor. The door clicked closed behind the guard as he slipped back into the hall. 

Boraxn retreated to his office once he had watched his wayward slave taken to bed. He poured himself a finger of scotch before settling comfortably into a nearby chair and rolling the glass in his knobby hands. He had known for sometime the boy was slipping, but Boraxn had thought a little spirit would be attractive to prospective buyers. Never had the goblin imagined the boy would go so far as to outright disregard the instructions of his betters and behave as if her were a free person. Boraxn cursed himself for allowing the boy to be coddled for so long and made a silent promise to ensure that such soft behavior would not continue. Choosing his own compositions for the recital was one matter, but to deceive Boraxn into thinking he had prepared as expected and then doing otherwise was abhorrent. On the morrow Draco’s punishment would be swift and final playing on the boys inherent fears to truly drive home the importance of obedience. 

~

The morning dawned cold and grey, overnight a summer storm had blown in and lead to driving rains that rattled the windows of the manor house and left a chill in the air. Draco came awake with a groan huddling under the thin blankets. Goosebumps dotted his pale flesh and a stiffness had settled in his bones while he slept. His mind felt a bit muggy and hungover from the Pepper Up that had been foisted off on him the day before. He hated potions they usually left him feeling ill and out of sorts afterward, just one more of the many reasons he wished he had not been born magical. 

Draco quickly went through his morning routine and scuttled down to the dining room. Boraxn was not at the table which filled boy with a deep sense of discomfort. He kneeled at Boraxn’s empty chair and crossed his hands in his lap. His shoulders slumped forward in defeat and a slight tremble started in his slumped shoulders and quickly travelled downward leaving his whole frame vibrating with nervousness. 

“Your posture is despicable slave. You bring shame to the house of Belechrot,” Boraxn watched the boy from the door to the dining room. Boraxn struggled to settle his mood between anger and disgust at the boys behavior. “I have noticed you slipping these last months and have allowed you that freedom. I was under the impression a buyer may find a little spirit attractive. However, there is a difference between a little spirit and insolence. Mikhail has mentioned you have been struggling with your place. This disappoints me Draco. You were once such a perfect pretty thing. I will see you become that again my sweet sweet boy.”

Draco gave a quiet sob at the mention of Mikhail reporting on him. He had allowed himself to forget that he had no privacy; to forget that all that was given to him was conditional on his good behavior. A warm hand landed on Draco’s shoulder and he flinched forward giving a quiet whimper. 

“You are a disappointment. Rodolphus please collect the slave and follow. We are going to be placing the disobedient one in The Box,” Boraxn turned his back on the boy and left the room. Draco cried out and attempted to pull away from Rodolphus as he reached to grab him up. Pale limbs struck out instinctively trying to break from the man’s steely grip. Tears ran left tracks down the boys face as he was carried unceremoniously through the manor and down into the basements below. By the time they reached the base of the stairs Draco had gone limp with resignation in Rodolphus’s arms. 

“It has been so many years since you were down here Draco. Remember when I first introduced you to the possible consequences for disobedience. You were so meek then. I thought you had taken the lessons to heart. I had truly believed you would never need to spend more time here, but I was overconfident. Bind him Rodolphus.”

A wide smile spread across the guards dark features as he laid Draco on a high wooden table that stood in the middle of the ill lit room. Draco laid limbs trembling with ill disguised terror and stared up with glazed eyes at the leering man above him. Rodolphus ran an appreciative hand over the creamy skin below him pinching at Draco’s tender thighs and sighing appreciatively when the boy whimpered. 

“I did not permit you to play with him Rodolphus show some restraint,” Boraxn scolded.

Rodolphus gave an obedient nod and quickly took up a roll of soft nylon rope and rolled Draco on to his belly. He quickly bound Draco’s arms behind his back elbow to elbow. It was a painful position that played on the extent of the boys flexibility. Rodolphus then pulled the boy’s legs back binding his ankles to his knees. It was not a terribly restricting position, but would become painful if held for long. 

“Thank you Rodolphus. Bring him here,” Boraxn gestured towards the wall. Rodolphus watched with interest as Boraxn laid hands on the rough surface and began to whisper in gobbledygook spelling a rectangular opening into existance. It was narrow and dark having been carved from the stone of the manor’s ancient foundations. The cavern he had spelled was cold to touch and damp. 

“Place him in here Rodolphus,” the goblin gestured to the crypt-like hole he had made. A shiver travelled down Rodulphus’s spine at the directive. Even Rodolphus as hardened as he had become was chilled by what was being laid out for the slave. He still remembered the boy’s screams of fear ringing through the manor whenever he was left alone in the dark after being brought to the manor. The years it had taken for Draco to overcome the terror he had of the dark. Rodolphus knew this punishment would sink into the bones of this child and possibly create a fear that would forever rest at the back of his mind. Rodolphus slid the bound child into the dark space and stepped back. There was little room between the boy’s head and the edge of the hole. Boraxn waved a hand and sealed the child into the dark space with only a small carved in the stone cap to allow for air.. It was only a moment before his scream broke forth muffled by the thick stone. 

Boraxn gave a sharp nod and the pair turned away to return above stairs and to the business of the day.

~

Harry woke with a scream his eye flying wide open and bound in his sheets. His face and arms felt sticky with cold sweat and he felt as if he might be running a fever. He rubbed a hand across his face and winced as it felt like sandpaper had been taken to his eyes during the night. The man untangled himself from the bedding and stood with a groan. He had not had nightmares this bad since coming off of Blue. His mind could not forget the blonde waif, so unlike his brothers, he had watched perform the night before. The child had been ethereal in his beauty and skilled. Harry could almost hear him play if he focused on the memory of the night before, but then like a wave of refuse he would see the sneering face of Malfoy Jr. transposed over that of Boraxn’s whore and shook up all the conflicting emotions he had about his war years. Harry shook off the remembering and grabbed up his bedding throwing the whole bundle onto his bed and headed for the kitchen for breakfast. Maria had left a plateful of scones and Harry helped himself to one as he headed for his home office already pulling out his phone to dive back into the chaos he had been working through the night before. 

“Timmons…”Harry began, but was quickly cut off by his second in command. 

“Shut it Harry. Everything is under control and does not require you to micromanage. You hover like a bat over every aspect of the business and you make the men nervous. Take a day off or go harass your board of directors at WeoTech,” Timmons scolded good naturedly. 

“I was just going to pop over and check the runes on the recent productions before it goes out. I want to make sure there wasn’t a mistake on my end,” Harry defended.

“They passed testing so there is no need. You know your business you have never failed in enchanting the runes. You show up I will shoot you. Do not think I am kidding.”

Harry cursed, “I know you're not I still have the scar on my ass from last time. Fine I will take the day off, but you are not running me out of my business tomorrow Timmons.”


End file.
